MYSTERIES- 


MARSEILLES- 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES 


A  NOVEL 


BY 

EMILE  ZOLA 


TRANSLATED 


K  I)  WARD    YI/KTKI.I.Y 


Xon&on  1805 

HUTCHINSON    &    CO. 

34  PATERNOSTER  ROW 


raixTKr  AT  NIMEKUEN  (iir>[.i.ANn) 

BY    II.    C.    A.    THIEME    OF    NIMEGUEN   (HOLLAND) 

AND 

FAI.BOT    HOUSE,    ARUNIIEL    STREET, 
LONDON,    W.C. 


't 


'0 


CONTENTS 


PART  I 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.       HOW  BLANCHE  DE  CAZALIS  ELOPED  WITH  PHILIPPE  CAYOL.  I 

II.       INTRODUCES    THE    HERO,    MARIUS    CAYOL 5 

III.  THERE    ARE    MENIALS    IN    THE    CHURCH 9 

IV.  HOW    M.  DE  CAZALIS  AVENGED  HIS  NIECE'S  DISHONOUR.  l6 
V.       BLANCHE   JOURNEYS    SIX    LEAGUES    ON   FOOT,  AND  SEES 

A    PROCESSION    PASS    BY 22 

VI.       THE    HUNT    AFTER    THE    LOVERS 26 

VII.       BLANCHE    DENIES    HER    LOVE 34 

VIII.       THE    IRON    POT    AGAINST    THE    EARTHEN    EWER.      ...  39 

IX.      M.    DE   GIROUSSE   LETS    HIS   TONGUE   WAG 46 

X.       A    SCANDALOUS    TRIAL 55 

XI.       HOW    BLANCHE    AND    FINE    FIND    THEMSELVES    FACE  TO 

FACE 60 

XII.       WHICH  SHOWS  THAT  A  GAOLER'S  HEART  IS  NOT  ALWAYS 

MADE    OF    STONE (15 

XIII.  A    BANKRUPTCY,    AS    THERE    ARE    MANY 69 

XIV.  IN     WHICH    IT  IS  PROVED  THAT  IT  IS  POSSIBLE  TOSPKNI) 

THIRTY     THOUSAND     FRANCS     A     YEAR    WHEN    ONLY 

EARNING    EIGHTEEN    HUNDRED 75 

XV.       PHILIPPE    REFUSES    TO    SAVE    HIMSELF 8 1 

XVI.       THE    USURERS 86 

XVII.      TWO    SHAMELESS    CHARACTERS 96 

XVIII.       IN    WHICH    THERE    IS    A    GLIMMER    OF    HOPE IOI 

XIX.      A    RESPITE 105 


CON  T  E  N  T  S 


VII 


PART  II 

CHAPTER  I'AGIi 

I.       M.    SAUVA1RE,    THE    MASTER    STEVEDORE IIO 

II.       A    MARSEILLAISE    LORETTE Il6 

III.  IN    WHICH    MADAME    MERCIER    SHOWS    HER    CLAWS    .      .  122 

IV.  WHICH    SHOWS    THAT    THE    POSITION    OK    A    LORETTE  IS 

NOT    WITHOUT    ITS    TROUBLES 128 

V.       DOUGLAS,    THE    NOTARY 134 

VI.       MARIUS    SEEKS    UNSUCCESSFULLY    FOR    A    HOUSE  AND  A 

MAN 1 40 

THE  COWL  DOES  NOT  MAKE  THE  FRIAR 148 

THE  NOTARY'S  SPECULATIONS 152 

HOW  AN  UGLY  MAN  MAY  BECOME  HANDSOME    ...  l6o 

HOSTILITIES   ARE  RENEWED 169 

DOUGLAS  IN  THE  PILLORY  AT  MARSEILLES 173 

MARIUS  LOSES  HIS  WITS 177 

THE  GAMBLING-HOUSES  OF  MARSEILLES 1 82 

IN   WHICH  MARIUS  WINS  TEN  THOUSAND  FRANCS  .    .  l8b 

HOW   MARIUS  HAD  BLOOD  ON   HIS  HANDS 195 

MADEMOISELLE  CLAIRE'S  PRAYER-BOOK 203 

IN    WHICH    SAUVAIRE    MAKES  UP  HIS  MIND  TO  HAVE 

HIS  MONEY'S  WORTH  OF  FUN 209 

III.     HOW  ABBE  DONADEl  ELOPED  WITH  THE  SISTER  SOUL 

TO  HIS  OWN 214 

ix.     PHILIPPE'S  RANSOM 220 

C.X.       HIE     ESCAPE 220 

PART  111 

I.       THE    CONSPIRACY 232 

II.       M.    DE    CAZALIS    HAS    A    PLAN 237 

III.  WHICH    TELLS    OF    THE    EFFECTS    PRODUCED  BY   A    PIECE 

OK    WHITE    RAC. 24  I 

IV.  IN     WHICH     M.    1>K    CA/ALIS    RUNS    THE     KI>K    OF   I.OMNG 

HIS     HEAD    WHILE    LOSING     HIS    GREAT     NEPHEW     .      .  2^O 

V.  IN     WHICH     BLANCHE     BIDS    FAREWELL     1<>    THEWoRI.D.  255 


VIII 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

VI.      A   SPECTRE 260 

VII.      M.    DE    CAZAI.IS    YEARNS   FOR   JOSEPH 264 

VIII.       "OPEN,    IN    THE    NAME   OF   THE    LAW  !  " 268 

IX.      PARDON  !    PARDON  ! 2/4 

X.      THE    INSURRECTION    OF   FEBRUARY,    1848 280 

XI.  IN    WHICH    MATHEUS    BECOMES    A    REPUBLICAN.     .      .      .  288 

XII.       THE    REPUBLIC    AT    MARSEILLES 296 

XIII.  WHAT    MATHEUS    UNDERSTOOD    BY    STRATEGY    ....  304 

XIV.  THE    RIOT    ...  - 311 

XV.      IN   WHICH    MATHEUS   COMPLETES   HIS   WORK 322 

XVI.  THE    BARRICADES    AT    THE    PLACE    AUX    CEUFS     ....  328 

XVII.  WHAT    MATHEUS,    THE    FORESEER,    DID    NOT    FORESEE    .  338 

XVIII.      THE   ATTACK 345 

XIX.  IN  WHICH  MATHEUS  AT  LAST  GETS  JOSEPH  IN  HIS  ARMS.  354 

XX.       HOW    PHILIPPE    FIRED    A    LAST    SHOT 359 

XXI.      THE   DUEL 368 

XXII.       THE    PUNISHMENT 378 

XXIII.       EPILOGUE 382 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 
part  i. 

CHAPTER  I. 

HOW  BLANCHE   DE   CAZALTS   ELOPED   WITH 
PHILIPPE   CAYOL. 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  the  month  of  May,  184—,  a  man 
about  thirty  years  of  age  was  walking  rapidly  along  a 
footpath  in  the  Saint  Joseph  quarter,  near  the  Aygalades. 
He  had  left  his  horse  in  the  care  of  a  small  cultivator 
occupying  a  neighbouring  farm,  and  was  going  in  the 
direction  of  a  large,  solidly-built  square  house,  a  kind  of 
country  chateau,  such  as  are  to  be  found  on  the  hills  of 
Provence. 

The  man  turned  aside  to  avoid  the  chateau  and  went 
and  seated  himself  in  a  pine  wood,  which  spread  out 
behind  the  building.  Then,  anxious  and  feverish,  he 
pushed  aside  the  branches  and  glanced  along  the  path- 
ways apparently  awaiting  someone  with  impatience. 
Now  and  again  he  rose  and  took  a  few  steps,  then 
reseated  himself  all  in  a  tremble. 

This  man,  who  was  tall  and  of  strange  appearance,  wore 
bushy  black  whiskers.  His  long  face,  marked  by  energetic 
lineaments,  displayed  a  kind  of  violent  and  passionate 
beauty.  Suddenly  his  eyes  softened  and  a  tender  smile 
spread  over  his  thick  lips.  A  young  girl  had  just  issued  from 
the  chateau,  and,  stooping  as  though  to  hide  herself, 
was  hastening  towards  the  pine  wood. 

Rosy  and  breathless,  she  reached  the  shelter  of  the  trees. 
She  was  barely  sixteen  years  old.  Beneath  the  blue 
ribbons  of  her  straw  hat,  her  young  face  was  smiling  with 
a  joyous  and  at  the  same  time  a  startled  expression. 


2  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

Her  fair  hair  fell  over  her  shoulders ;  her  little  hands, 
pressed  to  her  breast,  were  endeavouring  to  calm  her 
throbbing  heart. 

"How  late  you  are,  Blanche!"  said  the  young  man. 
"I  had  almost  giving  up  hoping  to  see  you." 

And  he  seated  her  on  the  moss  beside  him. 

"Forgive  me,  Philippe,"  answered  the  young  girl.  "My 
uncle  has  gone  to  Aix  to  purchase  an  estate ;  but  I  could 
not  get  rid  of  my  governess." 

She  yielded  herself  to  the  embrace  of  him  she  adored, 
and  the  two  lovers  enjoyed  one  of  those  long  talks  which 
are  at  once  so  silly  and  so  sweet.  Blanche  was  like  a 
big  child  playing  with  her  lover  as  she  would  have  done 
with  a  doll.  Philippe,  now  ardent  and  speechless,  was 
pressing  the  young  girl  to  him  and  gazing  upon  her  with 
all  the  transports  of  love  and  ambition. 

And  whilst  they  were  seated  there,  oblivious  of  the 
world,  they  noticed,  on  raising  their  heads,  some  peasants 
who  were  following  a  neighbouring  path,  whilst  watching 
them,  and  laughing.  Blanche,  full  of  alarm,  drew  away 
from  her  lover. 

"I  am  lost!"  she  exclaimed,  turning  quite  pale.  "Those 
men  will  inform  my  uncle.  Ah !  for  pity's  sake,  Philippe, 
save  me !" 

The  young  man  jumped  up  on  hearing  her  cry. 

"If  you  wish  me  to  save  you, "he  replied,  impetuously, 
"you  must  follow  me!  Come,  let  us  fly  together!  To- 
morrow, your  uncle  will  consent  to  our  marriage,  and  we 
shall  be  united  for  evermore." 

"Fly,  fly,"  repeated  the  child.  "Ah  !  I  fear  I  have  not 
the  courage  to  do  so.  I  am  too  weak,  too  timid." 

"  I  will  sustain  you,  Blanche.  We  will  live  a  life  of 
love." 

Blanche,  without  hearing,  without  replying,  let  her  head 
drop  on  Philippe's  shoulder. 

"Oh  !  I  dread,  I  dread  the  convent,"  she  resumed,  after 
a  time,  in  a  low  voice.  "You  will  marry  me,  you  will 
love  me  always  ?" 

"I  love  you — See,  I  am  on  my  knees." 

Then,    closing   her  eyes,   yielding,    Blanche  hastily  de- 


HOW  BLANCHE  DE  CAZALIS   ELOPED.  3 

scended  the  slope,  clinging  to  the  arm  of  Philippe  who 
had  risen.  After  she  had  gone  some  distance,  she  looked 
back  a  last  time  at  the  home  she  was  leaving,  and  a 
poignant  emotion  filled  her  eyes  with  tears. 

A  minute's  error  had  sufficed  to  throw  her  into  the 
young  man's  arms,  exhausted  and  confiding.  She  loved 
Philippe  with  all  the  warmth  of  a  first  passion,  with  all 
the  folly  of  her  inexperience.  She  was  running  away  like 
a  school-girl,  voluntarily,  and  without  weighing  the  terrible 
consequences  of  her  flight.  And  Philippe  was  carrying 
her  off,  intoxicated  with  his  victory  and  quivering  at  feeling 
her  moving  and  panting  at  his  side. 

At  first  he  thought  of  hastening  to  Marseilles  to  procure 
a  vehicle.  But  he  was  afraid  to  leave  her  alone  on  the 
high  road,  and  he  preferred  to  go  with  her  on  foot  as 
far  as  his  mother's  country-house,  which  was  situated  quite 
a  league  away,  in  the  Saint  Just  quarter. 

Philippe  had  to  leave  his  horse  behind,  and  the  two 
lovers  started  off  bravely  together.  They  passed  through 
meadows,  ploughed  fields  and  pine  woods,  taking  short 
cuts  and  walking  very  quickly.  It  was  about  four  o'clock. 
The  sun,  clear  and  scorching,  cast  before  them  broad  sheets 
of  light.  And  they  hastened  along  in  the  warm  air,  urged 
on  by  the  madness  which  was  eating  into  their  hearts. 
As  they  passed  by,  the  labourers  raised  their  heads  and 
watched  their  flight  with  amazement. 

It  did  not  take  them  an  hour  to  reach  the  home  of 
Philippe's  mother.  Blanche,  quite  tired  out,  seated  herself 
on  a  stone  bench  beside  the  door,  whilst  the  young  man 
went  to  sec  if  the  coast  was  clear.  He  then  returned 
and  conducted  her  to  his  room.  He  had  begged  Ayassc, 
a  gardener  whom  his  mother  was  employing  that  day,  to 
fetch  a  vehicle  from  Marseilles. 

Both  were  still  a  prey  to  the  excitement  of  their  flight. 
Whilst  awaiting  the  vehicle,  they  remained  silent  and 
anxious.  Philippe,  having  led  Blanche  to  a  little  chair, 
knelt  at  her  feet  and  gazed  lingcringly  at  her,  seeking  to 
reassure  her  by  gently  kissing  the  hand  she  yielded 
to  him. 

"You  cannot  remain  in  that  light  gown,"  he  said,  after 


4  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

a    time.      "Would    you    like    to    dress  up    as    a   man  ?" 

Blanche  smiled.  She  felt  childlike  joy  at  the  thought 
of  disguising  herself. 

"My  brother  is  rather  short,"  continued  Philippe.  "  You 
can  put  on  some  of  his  things." 

It  made  them  quite  merry.  The  young  girl  dressed 
herself,  laughing  the  while.  She  was  charmingly  awkward, 
and  Philippe  eagerly  kissed  the  blushes  on  her  cheeks. 
When  she  was  ready,  she  had  quite  the  appearance  of 
a  little  man,  of  a  youngster  of  twelve.  She  had  great 
difficulty  in  confining  her  mass  of  hair  in  the  hat,  and 
her  lover's  hands  trembled  as  he  gathered  the  rebellious 
Jocks  together. 

Ayasse  at  length  returned  with  the  vehicle.  He  con- 
sented to  receive  the  fugitives  in  his  own  home  at  Saint 
Barnabe.  Philippe  took  what  money  he  possessed,  and 
all  three  entered  the  carriage  which  they  left  at  the  Pont 
du  Jarret,  continuing  the  journey  to  the  gardener's  house 
on  foot. 

It  was  now  twilight.  Transparent  shadows  were  falling 
from  the  pale  heavens,  whilst  acrid  odours  rose  from  the 
earth,  still  warm  with  the  last  rays  of  the  sun.  Then  a 
vague  fear  took  possession  of  Blanche.  Her  heart  was 
sinking  within  her,  she  sought  to  gain  time. 

"Listen,"  said  she  to  Philippe,  "I  will  write  to  my 
confessor,  Abbe  Chastanier.  He  will  go  and  see  my  uncle, 
to  obtain  my  pardon  and  his  consent  to  our  marriage.  I 
think  I  should  not  be  so  frightened  were  I  your  wife." 

Philippe  smiled  at  the  tender  simplicity  of  the  last  words. 

"Write  to  Abbe  Chastanier,"  he  answered.  "For  my 
part,  I  will  send  my  brother  our  address.  He  will  come 
to-morrow  and  will  take  your  letter." 

It  was  thus  that  Blanche  de  Cazalis  eloped  with  Philippe 
Cayol,  one  fine  May  evening. 

Ah !  sweet  and  terrible  night !  which  was  doomed  to 
overwhelm  the  lovers  with  wretchedness,  and  bring  them 
nothing  but  suffering  and  regret  for  the  rest  of  their  lives. 


THE  HERO,  MARIOS  CAYOL.          5 

CHAPTER  II. 
INTRODUCES  THE  HERO,  MARIUS  CAYOL. 

MARIUS  CAYOL,  the  brother  of  Blanche's  lover,  was  about 
twenty-five  years  old.  He  was  short,  thin  and  puny. 
His  light  yellow  face,  with  its  long  narrow  black  eyes,  was 
lighted  up  at  times  with  a  kind  smile  of  self-devotion  and 
resignation.  He  walked  with  a  slight  stoop,  and  the 
hesitation  and  timidity  of  a  child.  But  the  hatred  of  evil, 
the  love  of  uprightness,  that  filled  his  being,  made  him 
appear  almost  handsome. 

He  had  assumed  the  hardships  of  the  family,  leaving 
his  brother  to  follow  his  ambitious  and  passionate  instincts. 

He  made  himself  quite  insignificant  beside  him,  saying, 
generally,  that  as  he  was  the  ugly  one  he  ought  not  to 
emerge  from  his  ugliness;  he  added  that  it  was  excusable 
for  Philippe  to  like  to  display  his  fine  figure  and  the 
vigorous  beauty  of  his  countenance.  Moreover,  when 
necessary,  he  could  be  severe  towards  the  great  impetuous 
child,  who  was  his  senior,  and  whom  he  treated  with  the 
remonstrances  and  affection  of  a  father. 

Their  mother,  now  a  widow,  was  not  at  all  wealthy. 
She  had  a  difficulty  in  making  both  ends  meet  on  the 
remnants  of  her  dowry,  the  major  portion  of  which  her 
husband  had  lost  in  business.  This  money,  deposited  at 
a  banker's,  yielded  her  a  small  income  which  had  enabled 
her  to  bring  up  her  two  sons.  But,  when  they  had  reached 
man's  estate,  she  showed  them  her  empty  hands,  and 
placed  them  face  to  face  with  the  difficulties  of  life.  And 
the  two  brothers,  thrown  thus  into  the  struggle  for  existence, 
led  on  by  their  different  natures,  followed  diametrically 
opposite  courses. 

Philippe,  who  had  an  appetite  for  wealth  and  liberty, 
could  not  bend  himself  to  labour.  He  wished  to  attain 
fortune  by  the  shortest  road,  and  had  visions  of  making 
a  rich  marriage.  That  was,  in  his  idea,  an  excellent 
expedient,  a  rapid  means  of  obtaining  an  income  and  a 
pretty  wife.  So  he  passed  his  life  in  the  sunshine,  became 


6  THE  MYSTERIES    OF  MARSEILLES. 

amorous,  and  even  slightly  dissipated.  He  experienced 
an  extreme  delight  in  being  well-dressed,  in  displaying 
his  elegant,  hasty  manners,  his  eccentric  garments,  his 
love-laden  glances  and  speeches,  about  Marseilles.  His 
mother  and  brother,  who  spoilt  him,  endeavoured  to  provide 
for  his  whims.  Moreover,-  Philippe  was  acting  in  good 
faith :  he  adored  women,  and  it  seemed  natural  to  him 
to  be  beloved  and  carried  off  some  day  by  a  rich  and 
beautiful  young  girl  of  noble  birth. 

Whilst  his  brother  was  exhibiting  his  fine  looks,  Marius 
had  taken  a  situation  as  clerk  in  the  office  of  M.  Martelly, 
a  ship-owner  residing  in  the  Rue  de  la  Darse.  He  felt 
quite  happy  hidden  away  in  his  office,  his  sole  ambition 
being  to  earn  a  modest  competence,  and  to  live  a  peaceful 
and  unostentatious  life.  Besides  this,  he  felt  a  secret 
pleasure  in  assisting  his  mother  and  brother.  The  money 
he  earned  was  dear  to  him,  because  he  could  give  it 
away  and  bestow  happiness  with  it,  and  himself  taste  the 
profound  delights  of  self-sacrifice.  He  had  chosen  in  life 
the  straight  way,  the  painful  path  which  leads  to  peace, 
joy,  and  self-respect. 

The  young  man  was  on  the  point  of  starting  for  his 
office,  when  he  received  the  letter  in  which  his  brother 
informed  him  of  his  elopement  with  Mademoiselle  de 
Cazalis.  It  filled  him  with  painful  surprise,  and  he  beheld 
at  a  glance  the  frightful  chasm  into  the  depths  of  which 
the  lovers  had  cast  themselves.  He  hastened  without 
loss  of  time  to  Saint  Barnabe. 

At  the  door  of  Ayasse  the  gardener's  house  was  a 
vine  trained  to  form  an  arbour,  whilst  two  big  mulberry 
trees,  pruned  to  the  shape  of  parasols,  spread  their  knotty 
branches  around  and  cast  their  shade  upon  the  entry. 
Marius  found  Philippe  seated  in  the  arbour,  gazing  lovingly 
upon  Blanche  de  Cazalis  beside  him.  The  young  girl, 
already  weary,  was  silently  regretting  what  they  had 
done. 

The  interview  was  a  painful  one,  full  of  anguish  and 
shame.  Philippe  rose  up. 

"  You  blame  me  ? "  he  asked,  holding  his  hand  out  to 
his  brother. 


THE   HERO,    MARIUS   CAYOL.  » 

/ 

"Yes,  I  blame  you,"  answered  Marius  energetically. 
"You  have  committed  a  base  action.  Pride  has  led  you 
away  and  passion  has  ruined  you.  You  have  not  thought 
of  the  evils  you  will  bring  on  your  family  and  yourself." 

Philippe  protested. 

"You  are  frightened,"  he  said  bitterly.  "For  myself, 
I  did  not  stop  to  consider.  I  loved  Blanche  and  she 
returned  my  love.  I  said  to  her:  'Will  you  come  with 
me?'  and  she  came.  That  is  the  whole  story.  We  are 
neither  of  us  deserving  of  censure." 

"  Why  lie  ?  "  replied  Marius  with  greater  severity.  "  You're 
not  a  child,  and  you  know  very  well  that  your  duty  was 
to  protect  this  young  lady  against  herself:  you  should 
have  stayed  her  on  the  brink  of  wrong,  prevented  her 
accompanying  you.  Ah !  don't  talk  to  me  of  love.  I 
recognise  only  the  love  of  justice  and  duty." 

Philippe  smiled  disdainfully,  and  drew  Blanche  to  his 
breast. 

"  My  poor  Marius,"  said  he,  "you  are  a  good  fellow 
but  you  have  never  been  in  love  and  do  not  understand 
its  fever.  This  is  my  defence." 

And  he  allowed  Blanche  to  embrace  him  as  she  clung 
quiveringly  to  him.  The  poor  child  felt  well  enough  that  her 
only  hope  was  in  this  man.  She  had  given  herself  away, 
she  belonged  to  him.  And  now  she  worshipped  him 
almost  as  a  slave,  lovingly  and  in  fear. 

Marius,  in  despair,  felt  that  he  would  do  no  more  good 
in  talking  reason  to  the  lovers.  He  determined  to  f»!!ow 
his  own  instincts,  and  asked  for  full  details  of  the  unhappy 
affair.  Philippe  quietly  answered  his  questions. 

"I  have  known  Blanche  for  nearly  eight  months,"  he 
said.  "  I  met  her  first  at  a  public  festival.  She  was 
smiling  in  the  crowd,  and  I  fancied  her  smile  was 
meant  for  me.  Since  that  day  I  have  loved  her  and 
have  sought  every  opportunity  of  meeting  and  address- 
ing her." 

"Haven't  you  written  to  her?"  asked  Marius. 

"Yes,  many  times." 

"Where  are  your  letters?" 

"  She  has  burnt  them.     Each  time  I  wrote,  I  bought  a 


8  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

bouquet  of  Fine,  the  florist  on  the  Cours  Saint  Louis,  and 
slipped  my  letter  in  amongst  the  flowers.  Marguerite,  the 
milkwoman,  used  to  take  Blanche  the  bouquets." 

"  And  did  your  letters  remain  unanswered  ? " 

"  At  first,  yes,  Blanche  refused  the  flowers.  Then,  she 
accepted  them  ;  and  finally,  she  ended  by  answering  me. 
I  was  madly  in  love.  I  dreamed  of  marrying  her  and 
of  loving  her  for  ever." 

Marius  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  drew  Philippe  on 
one  side.  He  there  continued  the  investigation  with  more 
harshness  in  his  voice. 

"You're  either  a  fool  or  a  liar,"  said  he  quietly.  "You 
know  very  well  that  M.  de  Cazalis,  deputy,  millionaire, 
all-powerful  in  Marseilles,  would  never  have  given  his 
niece  to  Philippe  Cayol,  poor,  plebeian,  and  republican  in 
addition  to  his  other  drawbacks.  Confess  that  you  have 
reckoned  on  the  scandal  that  your  elopement  will 
occasion  to  force  Blanche's  uncle  to  come  to  terms." 

"Well!  and  what  then?"  retorted  Philippe,  impetuously. 
"  Blanche  loves  me,  and  I  have  in  no  way  forced  her 
will.  She  has  freely  chosen  me  for  her  husband." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  am  aware  of  all  that.  You  have  said  it  too 
often  for  me  not  to  know  how  much  of  it  I  should  believe. 
But  you  have  not  considered  M.  de  Cazalis'  anger,  which 
will  fall  with  terrible  force  on  you  and  your  relations.  I 
know  the  man;  last  night  he  no  doubt  exhibited  his 
outraged  pride  to  all  Marseilles.  The  best  thing  you  can  do 
is  to  take  the  young  lady  back  to  her  home  at  Saint  Joseph." 

"  No,  I  will  not,  I  cannot.  Blanche  would  never  dare 
return  home.  She  had  only  been  at  the  country-house 
about  a  week;  I  was  in  the  habit  of  seeing  her  twice  a 
day,  in  a  little  pine-wood.  Her  uncle  knew  nothing,  and 
it  must  have  been  a  great  shock  to  him.  It  is  impossible 
for  us  to  go  there  at  present." 

"  Well!  listen,  give  me  the  letter  for  Abbe  Chastanier. 
I  will  see  him,  and,  if  necessary,  will  go  with  him  to  call  on 
M.  de  Cazalis.  We  must  hush  up  the  scandal.  I  have 
a  task  to  perform,  the  task  of  repairing  the  wrong  you 
have  done.  Promise  me  you  will  not  leave  this  house, 
that  you  will  await  here  my  further  instructions." 


THERE    ARE   MENIALS   IN   THE   CHURCH.  9 

"I   promise   you   to   wait,    if  no  danger  threatens  me." 

Marius  took  Philippe's  hand  and  looked  him  loyally  in 
the  face. 

"Love  this  child  well,"  he  said,  in  a  deep  voice,  point- 
ing to  Blanche;  "you  will  never  be  able  to  undo  the 
wrong  you  have  done  her." 

He  was  about  to  take  his  leave,  when  Mademoiselle  de 
Cazalis  came  forward.  She  clasped  her  hands  in  supplication, 
stifling  her  sobs. 

"If  you  see  my  uncle,  sir,"  she  stammered,  "be  sure 
and  tell  him  that  I  love  him.  I  cannot  account  for  what 
has  happened.  I  would  like  to  remain  Philippe's  wife 
and  to  return  to  my  home  in  his  company." 

Marius  slightly  bowed. 

"Have  hope,"  he  said. 

And  he  went  off  sad  and  troubled,  feeling  that  his 
words  were  a  lie,  and  that  to  hope  would  be  madnc-s. 


CHAPTER   III. 
THERE   ARE  MENIALS   IN   THE   CHURCH. 

ON  reaching  Marseilles,  Marius  directed  his  steps  to  the 
church  of  Saint  Victor,  to  which  Abbe  Chustanier  was 
attached.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  churches  in  Marseilles; 
its  dark,  high,  and  crenulated  walls  give  it  the  appearance 
of  a  fortress.  The  rough  people  of  the  port  hold  it  in 
particular  veneration. 

The  young  fellow  found  the  priest  in  the  sacristy.  He 
was  a  tall  old  man,  with  a  long  emaciated  face,  pale  as 
wax ;  his  sad  eyes  had  a  fixed  look  of  suffering  and 
misery.  He  had  just  returned  from  a  funeral,  and  was 
slowly  taking  off  his  surplice. 

His  history  was  a  short  and  sad  one.  Born  of  peasant 
parents,  and  as  gentle  and  innocent  as  a  child,  he  had 
taken  orders  to  satisfy  the  pious  wish  of  his  mother.  In 
becoming  a  priest  he  had  desired  to  perform  an  act  of 
humility,  of  absolute  devotion.  He  believed,  in  his  sim- 
plicity, that  a  minister  of  God  should  bury  himself 


10  THE    MYSTERIES   OF    MARSEILLES. 

in  the  infiniteness  of  divine  love,  renounce  the  ambitions 
and  intrigues  of  the  world,  and  live  in  the  heart  of  the 
sanctuary,  absolving  sins  with  one  hand  and  dispensing 
charity  with  the  other. 

Ah !  poor  abbe !  how  they  let  him  see  that  the  simple- 
minded  are  only  fit  to  suffer  and  remain  in  obscurity! 
He  was  soon  to  learn  that  ambition  is  a  sacerdotal  virtue, 
and  that  young  priests  often  love  God  for  the  sake  of  the 
worldly  favours  that  His  church  distributes.  He  beheld 
all  his  comrades  of  the  seminary  struggling  tooth  and 
nail.  He  assisted  at  these  internal  battles,  those  secret 
intrigues  which  turn  a  diocese  into  a  turbulent  little  king- 
dom. And,  as  he  remained  humbly  on  his  knees,  as  he 
did  not  seek  to  please  the  feminine  portion  of  the  congre- 
gation, as  he  asked  for  nothing  and  appeared  piously 
stupid,  he  was  endowed  with  a  miserable  living,  thrown 
to  him  as  one  casts  a  bone  to  a  dog. 

He  remained  thus,  for  forty  years,  in  a  little  village 
situated  between  Aubagne  and  Cassis.  His  church  was 
a  kind  of  barn,  lime-washed  and  icily  bare  ;  in  winter, 
when  the  wind  blew  in  one  of  the  window-panes,  the 
interior  was  chilled  for  weeks  together,  for  the  poor  priest 
did  not  always  possess  the  few  coppers  necessary  to  replace 
the  broken  glass.  Yet  he  never  complained,,  he  lived 
peacefully  amidst  his  wretchedness  and  solitude.  He  even 
experienced  great  joy  in  suffering,  in  feeling  himself  kin 
to  the  beggars  of  his  parish. 

He  was  sixty  years  old,  when  one  of  his  sisters,  a  work- 
woman at  Marseilles,  became  an  invalid.  She  wrote  to 
him,  beseeching  him  to  come  to  her.  The  old  priest 
therefore  begged  his  bishop  to  find  him  a  small  place  in 
one  of  the  city  churches.  He  was  kept  waiting  the  fulfil- 
ment of  his  modest  request  for  several  months,  when  at 
length  he  received  a  call  to  Saint  Victor.  There  he  had 
to  undertake,  so  to  say,  all  the  roughest  work,  all  the 
labour  that  brought  least  renown  and  least  profit.  He 
prayed  over  the  coffins  of  the  poor  and  led  them  to  the 
cemetery  ;  he  even  at  times  fulfilled  the  duties  of  sacristan. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  he  began  really  to  suffer.  So 
long  as  he  had  remained  in  his  desert,  he  had  been  able 


THERE   ARE   MENIALS   IN   THE   CHURCH.          l  I 

to  be  simple,  poor,  and  old  at  his  ease.  Now,  he  felt 
that  his  poverty  and  old  age,  his  gentleness  and  simplicity 
were  looked  upon  as  a  crime.  And  his  heart  was  rent 
when  he  understood  that  there  could  be  menials  in  the 
Church.  He  saw  well  enough  that  he  was  looked  upon 
with  derision  and  scorn.  He  bowed  his  head  still  more, 
becoming  yet  more  humble,  weeping  over  his  faith,  shaken 
by  the  words  and  deeds  of  the  worldly  priests 
about  him. 

Fortunately  of  an  evening,  he  had  some  happy  moments. 
He  nursed  his  sister,  consoling  himself  in  his  own  way 
by  devoting  himself  to  another.  He  surrounded  the  poor 
invalid  with  a  thousand  little  joys.  Then  another  pleasure 
had  been  vouchsafed  him  :  M.  de  Cazalis,  who  had  no 
faith  in  young  abbes,  had  selected  him  to  be  his  niece's 
spiritual  adviser.  The  old  priest  seldom  attracted  a  lady 
penitent  and  scarcely  ever  heard  a  confession.  He  was 
moved  to  tears  on  the  receipt  of  the  deputy's  proposal, 
and  he  questioned,  he  loved  Blanche  as  though  she  had 
been  his  own  child. 

Marius  handed  him  the  young  girl's  letter  and  watched 
his  face  for  a  trace  of  the  emotions  the  reading  of  it  was 
about  to  cause  him.  He  beheld  the  signs  of  acute  grief. 
Yet  the  priest  did  not  appear  to  experience  that  surpr.se 
which  results  from  unexpected  news,  and  Marius  concluded 
that  Blanche  had  mentioned  in  confession  her  growing 
affection  for  Philippe. 

"You  did  well  to  count  upon  me,  sir,"  said  Abbe 
Chastanier  to  Marius.  "  But  I  am  very  weak  and  not  at 
all  skilful.  I  should  have  displayed  more  energy." 

The  poor  man's  head  and  hands  shook  with  that  sad 
gentle  trembling  peculiar  to  old  people. 

"  I  am  at  your  disposal,"  he  continued.  "How  can  I 
assist  the  unhappy  child  ?" 

"Sir,"  replied  Marius,  "I  am  the  brother  of  the  young 
madman  who  has  eloped  with  Mademoiselle  dc  Caxalis, 
and  I  have  sworn  to  right  the  wrong,  to  stifle  the  scandal. 
Will  you  join  with  me.  The  young  lady's  honour 
is  gone  if  her  uncle  has  already  denounced  the  affair  to 
the  authorities.  Go,  therefore,  and  find  him,  endeavour  to 


12  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

calm  his  anger,  and  tell  him  his  niece  shall  promptly 
be  restored  to  him." 

"Why  did  you  not  bring  her  with  you?  I  know  how 
passionate  M.  de  Cazalis  can  be.  Nothing  but  certainty 
will  satisfy  him." 

"It  is  just  that  anger  which  has  frightened  my  brother. 
Besides,  this  is  no  time  for  reasoning.  We  are  overwhelmed 
with  accomplished  facts.  Believe  me,  I  feel  as  in- 
dignant as  you,  and  fully  understand  how  disgraceful  my 
brother's  behaviour  has  been.  But,  for  pity's  sake,  let  us 
do  something." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  abbe  simply,  "I  will  go  wher- 
ever you  wish." 

They  went  along  the  Boulevard  de  la  Corderie  and 
reached  the  Cours  Bonaparte  where  the  deputy's 
town  house  was  situated.  M.  de  Cazalis,  a  prey  to 
terrible  anger  and  despair,  had  returned  to  Marseilles 
early  in  the  morning  following  the  elopement.  Abbe 
Chastanier  stopped  Marius  at  the  door  of  the  house. 

"Do  not  come  in,"  said  he.  "Your  visit  might  be 
considered  an  insult.  Let  me  manage,  and  wait  for 
me  here." 

Marius  walked  feverishly  up  and  down  the  pavement 
for  a  good  hour.  He  would  have  preferred  to  have  gone 
in,  to  have  explained  matters  himself  and  have  asked 
for  pardon  in  Philippe's  name.  Whilst  the  fate  of  his 
family  was  under  discussion  in  that  house,  he  had  to 
remain  there,  outside,  inactive,  and  a  prey  to  all  the 
agony  of  waiting.  At  length  Abbe  Chastanier  came  out. 
He  had  been  weeping;  his  eyes  were  red,  his  lips  quivering. 

"  M.  de  Cazalis  will  listen  to  nothing,"  he  said,  in  a 
troubled  voice.  "  I  found  him  in  a  blind  rage.  He  has 
already  been  to  the  crown -attorney." 

The  poor  priest  did  not  mention  that  M.  de  Cazalis 
had  received  him  with  the  bitterest  reproaches,  venting  his 
anger  upon  him,  and  accusing  him,  in  his  rage,  of  having 
given  evil  counsel  to  his  niece.  The  abbe  bent  beneath 
the  storm  ;  he  almost  fell  on  his  knees,  not  seeking  to 
defend  himself,  but  imploring  the  deputy  to  take  pity  on 
the  others. 


THERE  ARE  MENIALS  IN  THE  CHURCH.     13 

"Tell  me  all!"  exclaimed  Marius,  in  despair. 

"It  appears,"  the  priest  replied,  "that  the  man  with 
whom  your  brother  left  his  horse,  assisted  M.  de  Cazalis 
in  his  search.  A  complaint  was  lodged  at  an  early  hour 
this  morning,  and  the  police  have  been  to  ransack  your 
lodging  in  the  Rue  Sainte,  and  your  mother's  house  at 
Saint  Just." 

"  Good  heavens  !  good  heavens!  "  sighed  Marius. 

"  M.  de  Cazalis  swears  that  he  will  crush  the  whole  of 
your  family.  I  vainly  endeavoured  to  bring  him  to  a 
kindlier  frame  of  mind.  He  talks  of  having  your  mother 
arrested." 

"My  mother!     Whatever  for?" 

"  He  makes  out  that  she  is  an  accomplice,  that  she 
assisted  your  brother  in  carrying  off  Mademoiselle  Blanche." 

"  What  can  we  do,  how  prove  the  falsity  of  such  an 
accusation?  Ah!  wretched  Philippe!  It  will  be  the  death 
of  our  mother." 

And  Marius  sobbed  aloud,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 
Abbe  Chastanier  beheld  his  fit  of  despair  with  tender 
pity.  He  understood  the  goodness  and  probity  of  the 
poor  lad,  who  wept  thus  in  the  open  street. 

"Come,  my  child,"  he  said,   "be  courageous." 

"You  are  right,  father,"  exclaimed  Marius,  "it  is  courage 
I  need.  I  was  weak,  this  morning.  I  should  have  wrested 
the  young  lady  from  Philippe,  and  have  taken  her 
back  to  her  uncle.  An  inner  voice  bade  me  perform  that 
act  of  justice,  and  I  am  punished  for  not  having  obeyed 
its  prompting.  They  talked  to  me  of  love,  passion,  marriage, 
and  I  allowed  their  words  to  move  me." 

They  remained  a  moment  silent,  and  then  Marius  said 
suddenly : 

"Come  with  me.  Between  us,  we  shall  be  strong  enough 
to  separate  them." 

"I  am  willing,"  the  abbe  replied. 

And,  without  even  thinking  to  take  a  cab,  they  followed 
the  Rue  de  Breteuil,  the  canal  quay,  the  Napoleon  quav, 
and  then  ascended  the  Cannebierc.  They  walked  hurriedly 
along,  without  speaking.  When  they  reached  the  Coins 
Saint  Louis,  the  sound  of  a  fresh  young  voice  caused 


14  THE    MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

them  to  turn  their  heads.  It  was  Fine,  the  flower-girl, 
calling  Marius. 

Josephine  Cougourdan,  familiarly  known  by  the  pet  name 
of  Fine,  was  one  of  those  Marseilles  brunettes,  small  and 
plump,  whose  refined  features  have  preserved  all  the 
delicate  purity  of  their  Grecian  ancestors.  Her  round 
head  stood  upon  slightly  drooping  shoulders;  her  pale 
face  bore  an  expression  of  disdainful  scorn  beneath  her 
braided  black  hair;  passionate  energy  was  visible  in 
her  large  melancholy  eyes  which  were  softened  now  and 
again  by  a  smile.  She  was  from  twenty-two  to  twenty- 
four  years  of  age. 

When  only  fifteen  she  found  herself  an  orphan  with 
a  young  brother,  not  more  than  ten  years  old,  dependent 
upon  her.  She  bravely  took  her  mother's  place,  and  three 
days  after  the  funeral,  whilst  still  suffering  from  her  great 
grief,  she  was  seated  in  a  kiosk  on  the  Cours  Saint  Louis 
making  up  and  selling  nosegays,  sobbing  the  while. 

The  little  florist  soon  became  the  spoilt  child  of  Mar- 
seilles. Her  youth  and  grace  secured  her  popularity. 
Her  flowers,  it  was  said,  had  a  sweeter  smell  than  those 
sold  elsewhere.  Gallants  swarmed  around  her;  she  sold 
them  her  roses,  violets,  and  carnations,  but  that  was  all. 
And  it  is  thus  that  she  was  able  to  bring  up  her  brother 
Cadet  and  apprentice  him,  when  eighteen  years  old,  to  a 
master  stevedore. 

The  two  young  people  lived  on  the  Place  aux  CEufs, 
in  the  centre  of  the  labouring-class  quarter.  Cadet  was 
now  a  big  fellow  employed  at  the  docks ;  Fine,  grown 
handsomer  and  having  arrived  at  womanhood,  had  the 
lively  gait  and  careless  caressing  way  of  Marseillese  women. 

She  was  acquainted  with  the  Cayols  through  having 
sold  them  flowers,  and  she  would  speak  to  them  with  that 
tender  familiarity  which  springs  from  the  warm  air  and 
gentle  language  of  Provence.  Besides  which,  if  all  must 
be  told,  Philippe  had  latterly  so  often  bought  her  roses, 
that  she  had  ended  by  feeling  a  slight  tremor  when  he 
approached  her.  The  young  man,  who  was  by  instinct 
an  admirer  of  the  sex,  laughed  with  her  and  gazed  at 
her  so  intently  that  he  made  her  blush,  half  declaring  his 


THERE   ARE   MENIALS   IN   THE   CHURCH.          15 

love,  the  while,  and  all  this  simply  not  to  forget  the 
ways  of  wooing.  The  poor  girl,  who  up  till  then  had 
made  short  work  of  would-be  lovers,  fell  a  victim  to  this 
flirtation.  At  night-time  she  dreamed  of  Philippe,  and 
wondered,  with  anguish,  whatever  he  could  do  with  all 
the  flowers  she  sold  him. 

When  Marius  approached  her  he  found  her  high-coloured 
and  troubled.  She  was  half  hidden  by  her  nosegays  and 
looked  adorably  fresh  beneath  the  broad  lappets  of  her 
little  lace  cap. 

"  Monsieur  Marius,"  she  asked  hesitatingly,  "  is  what 
every  one  is  saying  this  morning  true  ?  That  your  brother 
has  eloped  with  a  young  lady?" 

"Who  told  you  that?"   asked  Marius,  quickly. 

"Why,   every  one.     The  rumour  is  all  over  the  place." 

And  as  the  young  man  seemed  as  troubled  as  herself, 
and  stood  there  without  speaking,  Fine  added  with 
slight  bitterness: 

"I  was  told  that  Monsieur  Philippe  was  a  flirt.  His 
tongue  was  too  soft  for  his  words  to  be  true." 

She  was  on  the  point  of  weeping,  but  was  forcing  back  her 
tears.  With  painful  resignation  she  then  added  more  gently  : 

"  I  can  see  that  you  are  in  trouble.  If  you  should  need 
me,  do  not  fail  to  let  me  know." 

Marius  looked  her  in  the  face  and  seemed  to  guess  the 
agony  of  her  heart. 

"You  are  a  brave  girl!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  thank  you, 
and  will  perhaps  avail  myself  of  your  services." 

He  heartily  shook  her  hand,  as  he  would  have  done 
to  a  comrade,  and  hastened  to  rejoin  Abbe  Chastanicr 
who  was  waiting  for  him  at  the  edge  of  the  pavement. 

"We  have  no  time  to  lose,"  he  said.  "The  story  is 
spreading  all  over  Marseilles.  We  must  take  a  cab." 

Night  was  falling  when  they  reached  Saint  Barnabe. 
They  only  found  the  gardener  Ayasse's  wife,  who  \vas 
knitting  in  a  low  room.  This  woman  quietly  informed 
them  that  the  gentleman  and  young  lady  had  become 
alarmed,  and  had  gone  off  on  foot  in  the  direction  of 
Aix.  She  added  that  her  son  had  accompanied  them  to 
guide  them  amongst  the  hills. 


1 6  THE    MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

The  last  hope  was  thus  dead.  Marius,  completely 
overcome,  returned  to  Marseilles  without  hearing  the 
encouraging  words  Abbe  Chastanier  addressed  to  him. 
He  was  thinking  of  the  fatal  consequences  of  Philippe's 
madness;  he  was  rebelling  against  the  misfortunes  about 
to  befall  his  family. 

"My  child,"  said  the  priest,  as  he  left  him,  "I  am  only 
a  poor  man,  but  dispose  of  me  as  you  will.  I  will  go 
and  pray  to  God  for  you." 

CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW   M.   DE   CAZALIS   AVENGED   HIS   NIECE'S 
DISHONOUR. 

THE  lovers  had  eloped  on  a  Wednesday.  On  the  follow- 
ing Friday  all  Marseilles  knew  the  story;  the  gossips  on 
their  doorsteps  embellished  the  adventure  with  many 
dramatic  details;  the  nobility  was  indignant,  whilst  the 
middleclass  folk  had  a  hearty  laugh.  M.  de  Cazalis,  in 
his  rage,  had  done  everything  to  increase  the  racket  and 
turn  his  niece's  flight  into  a  frightful  scandal. 

Clear-sighted  people  easily  accounted  for  his  show  of 
anger.  M.  de  Cazalis  was  a  deputy  of  the  opposition 
and  had  been  returned  at  Marseilles  by  a  majority  composed 
of  a  few  liberals,  some  priests,  and  members  of  the  aristocracy. 
Devoted  to  the  cause  of  legitimacy,  bearing  one  of  the 
most  ancient  names  of  Provence,  bowing  humbly  before 
all-powerful  Mother  Church,  he  had  experienced  consider- 
able repugnance  in  flattering  the  liberals  and  receiving 
their  votes.  In  his  eyes  they  were  merely  varlets,  servants, 
fit  only  to  be  whipped  in  the  public  streets.  His  indomitable 
pride  suffered  at  the  thought  of  lowering  itself  to  their  level. 

Yet  he  had  been  obliged  to  bow  before  them.  The 
liberals  noised  abroad  the  services  they  were  rendering, 
and  for  a  time  a  pretence  was  made  of  disdaining  their 
assistance ;  but  when  they  talked  of  intervening  in  the 
election  by  naming  one  of  their  own  party  as  a  candidate, 
M.  de  Cazalis  was  forced  by  circumstances  to  bury  his 


M.    DE   CAZALIS.  17 

hatred  in  the  depths  of  his  heart,  promising  himself  his 
revenge  on  some  future  occasion.  Then  the  most  shameless 
jobbery  was  resorted  to;  the  clergy  took  the  field,  votes 
were  secured  right  and  left,  thanks  to  innumerable  civilities 
and  promises,  with  the  result  that  M.  de  Cazalis  was 
elected. 

And  here  was  Philippe  Cayol,  one  of  the  leaders  of 
the  liberal  party  fallen  into  his  hands.  At  last  he  would 
be  able  to  gratify  his  hatred  on  the  person  of  one  of  the 
louts  who  had  bargained  with  him  for  his  return  to  the 
Chamber.  He  should  be  made  to  pay  for  all;  his  relatives 
should  be  ruined  and  plunged  into  despair;  and  as  for 
him,  he  should  be  thrown  into  prison,  precipitated  from 
the  height  of  his  dream  of  love  on  to  the  straw  of  a 
dungeon. 

W-hat!  a  little  nobody  had  dared  to  win  the  love  of 
the  niece  of  a  Cazalis !  He  had  led  her  away  with  him, 
and  now  they  were  both  roving  along  the  roads,  attending 
the  hedge-school  of  love.  It  was  a  scandal  to  be  made 
much  of.  An  ordinary  person  would  perhaps  have  preferred 
to  hush  it  up,  to  conceal  the  deplorable  adventure  as  far 
as  possible ;  but  a  Cazalis,  deputy  and  millionaire,  was  pos- 
sessed of  sufficient  influence  and  pride  to  proclaim  the 
shame  of  a  relative  abroad  without  a  blush. 

What  mattered  a  young  girl's  honour!  All  the  world 
might  know  that  Blanche  de  Cazalis  had  eloped  with 
Philippe  Cayol,  but  no  one  should  be  able  to  say  that 
she  was  his  wife,  that  she  had  degraded  herself  by  marrying 
a  poor  devil  without  a  handle  to  his  name.  Pride  required 
that  the  child  should  remain  dishonoured,  and  that  her 
dishonour  should  be  posted  on  the  walls  of  Marseilles. 

M.  de  Cazalis  had  bills  placarded  in  all  the  squares 
of  the  city,  promising  ten  thousand  francs  reward  to 
whosoever  would  bring  him  his  niece  and  her  seducer 
bound  hand  and  foot.  When  one  loses  a  pure-bred  dog 
it  is  also  usual  to  advertise  for  it. 

Among  the  upper  classes,  the  scandal  spread  still  more 
noisily.  M.  de  Cazalis  disseminated  his  r.age  everywhere. 
He  availed  himself  of  the  influence  of  his  friends,  of  the 
clergy,  and  nobility.  As  guardian  of  Blanche  who  was  an 


1 8  THE    MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

orphan,  and  as  trustee  of  her  fortune,  he  urged  on  the 
authorities  in  their  search,  and  drew  up  the  indictment 
of  the  accused.  It  might  be  said  that  he  took  pains  to 
procure  the  greatest  possible  publicity  for  the  gratis  show 
about  to  begin. 

One  of  the  first  measures  he  resorted  to  was  to  secure  the 
arrest  of  Philippe  Cayol's  mother.  When  the  crown-attorney 
presented  himself  she  replied  to  all  questions  that  she  did 
not  know  her  son's  whereabouts.  Her  confusion,  her 
anguish,  her  mother's  fears,  which  made  her  hesitate, 
were  no  doubt  considered  so  many  proofs  of  complicity. 
She  was  sent  to  prison,  more  as  a  hostage,  and  possibly 
in  the  hope  that  her  son  would  surrender  himself  in  order 
to  secure  her  release. 

When  Marius  heard  of  his  mother's  arrest  he  almost 
went  mad.  He  knew  she  was  in  delicate  health,  and  pic- 
tured her,  with  terror,  shut  up  in  a  bare  and  icy  cold  cell ; 
she  would  die  there,  tortured  by  all  the  pangs  of  suffering 
and  despair. 

Marius  was  also  suspected  at  the  outset.  But  his  firm 
answers,  and  the  bail  that  his  employer,  the  ship-owner 
Martelly,  offered  on  his  behalf,  saved  him  from  imprison- 
ment. He  wanted  to  remain  free  in  order  to  work  for 
the  'salvation  of  his  family. 

Little  by  little  his  upright  mind  was  able  to  properly 
weigh  the  facts.  At  first,  he  had  been  overwhelmed  by 
Philippe's  guilt,  he  had  seen  only  the  irreparable  wrong 
his  brother  had  done.  And  he  had  humbled  himself, 
desiring  solely  to  calm  Blanche's  uncle  and  give  him  every 
reparation  possible.  But,  in  face  of  the  deputy's  rigour, 
of  the  scandal  he  was  raising,  the  young  man  had  a 
revulsion  of  feeling.  He  had  seen  the  fugitives,  and  knew 
that  Blanche  was  voluntarily  accompanying  Philippe,  and 
he  was  indignant  at  hearing  the  latter  accused  of  abduc- 
tion. Hard  words  flew  around  him :  his  brother  was  called 
a  scoundrel,  a  villain,  and  his  mother  did  not  come  off 
much  better.  In  consequence,  his  love  of  truth  prompted 
him  to  defend  the  lovers,  to  take  the  part  of  the  fugitives 
even  against  the  authorities.  Besides  which,  the  deputy's 
noisy  accusations  sickened  him.  He  felt  that  true  grief 


M.    DE   CAZALIS.  19 

is  dumb,  and  that  an  affair  in  which  a  young  girl's  honour 
is  at  stake  should  not  be  ventilated  in  public.  And  he 
felt  all  this,  not  because  he  wished  to  see  his  brother 
escape  chastisement,  but  because  his  delicacy  was  wounded 
by  all  this  publicity  given  to  a  child's  shame.  Moreover, 
he  knew  the  meaning  of  the  deputy's  rage ;  by  striking 
Philippe,  he  was  striking  far  more  the  republican  than  the 
abductor. 

Marius  was  thus  in  his  turn  overcome  with  anger.  He 
was  insulted  through  his  family — his  mother  cast  into 
prison,  his  brother  tracked  like  a  wild  beast,  his  dearest 
affections  dragged  in  the  mud — they  were  the  victims  of 
bad  faith  and  passion.  At  this  he  held  up  his  head 
again.  The  guilt  was  not  all  on  the  side  of  the  ambitious 
lover  who  had  eloped  with  a  wealthy  young  lady,  it  was 
equally  the  portion  of  him  who  was  stirring  up  Marseilles, 
and  who  intended  using  all  his  power  to  satisfy  his  pride. 
Since  the  authorities  had  undertaken  to  punish  the  first, 
Marius  swore  that  sooner  or  later  he  would  punish  the 
second,  and  that  in  the  meantime  he  would  upset  his 
plans  and  endeavour  to  counterbalance  the  influence  his 
wealth  and  birth  gave  him. 

From  this  moment,  Marius  displayed  febrile  energy, 
he  devoted  himself  entirely  to  the  preservation  of  his 
mother  and  brother.  Unfortunately  he  was  unable  to  learn 
what  had  become  of  Philippe.  Two  days  after  the  flight, 
he  had  received  a  letter  in  which  the  fugitive  implored 
him  to  send  him  a  thousand  francs  to  defray  the  expenses 
of  his  journey.  The  letter  was  dated  from  Lambesc. 

Philippe  had  there  found  a  few  days'  hospitality  in  the 
house  of  M.  de  Girousse,  an  old  friend  of  the  family. 
M.  dc  Girousse,  who  was  the  son  of  a  former  member  of 
the  parliament  of  Aix,  was  born  in  the  midst  of  revolution. 
At  his  first  breath  he  had  inhaled  the  burning  atmosphere 
of  '89,  and  his  blood  had  always  preserved  a  little  of  the 
revolutionary  fever.  He  felt  uncomfortable  in  his  mansion 
on  the  Cours  at  Aix  ;  in  his  eyes  the  nobility  of  the  town 
seemed  possessed  of  such  inordinate  pride,  such  deplorable 
inertness,  that  he  judged  it  severely  and  preferred  to  live 
at  a  distance  from  it.  His  upright  mind,  his  love  of  logic. 


20  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

had  helped  him  to  accept  the  new  order  of  things,  and 
he  willingly  held  out  his  hand  to  the  people  and  accom- 
modated himself  to  the  tendencies  of  modern  society.  At 
one  time  he  had  thought  of  founding  a  factory,  and  of 
exchanging  his  title  of  count  for  that  of  manufacturer, 
considering  that  nowadays  the  only  nobility  is  the  nobility 
of  talent  and  labour.  And  as  he  preferred  living  alone, 
away  from  his  equals,  he  stayed  the  greater  part  of  the 
year  on  an  estate  he  owned  near  the  little  town  of 
Lambesc.  It  was  there  that  he  had  harboured  the  fu- 
gitives. 

Marius  was  overwhelmed  by  Philippe's  request.  His 
savings  did  not  amount  to  more  than  six  hundred  francs. 
He  bestirred  himself,  and  during  two  days  endeavoured 
to  borrow  the  remainder  of  the  amount.  One  morning, 
when  he  was  beginning  to  despair,  Fine  called  upon  him. 
He  had  confided  his  trouble  to  the  young  woman  the  day 
before;  she  had  been  for  ever  on  his  footsteps  since 
Philippe's  flight  and  constantly  asking  for  news  of  his 
brother,  being  apparently  most  anxious  to  know  whether 
the  young  lady  was  still  with  him.  Fine  laid  five  hundred 
francs  on  a  table. 

"There,"  she  said,  with  a  blush.  "You  can  return  it 
to  me  later  on.  It's  some  money  I  put  aside  to  purchase 
my  brother's  discharge,  if  he  was  drawn  in  the  conscription." 

Marius  would  not  accept  it. 

"You're  making  me  waste  my  time,"  resumed  Fine,  with 
charming  abruptness.  "  I  must  hurry  back  to  my  flow- 
ers. But  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  call  here  every  morning 
for  news." 

And  she  hastened  away. 

Marius  sent  the  thousand  francs.  Then  he  heard  nothing 
further,  but  passed  a  whole  fortnight  in  complete  ignor- 
ance of  the  march  of  events.  He  knew  Philippe  was 
being  relentlessly  hunted  down,  and  that  was  all.  He 
would  not  believe  the  grotesque  or  frightful  stories  that 
were  current  with  the  public.  He  had  enough  with  his 
own  fears,  without  being  frightened  at  the  gossip  of  the 
town.  He  had  never  in  his  life  before  suffered  so  much. 
His  anxiety  nearly  drove  him  mad  ;  the  least  sound 


M.    DE   CAZALIS.  21 

frightened  him ;  he  was  for  ever  on  the  alert  as  though 
expecting  some  bad  news  at  any  moment.  He  heard 
that  Philippe  had  gone  to  Toulon  and  had  almost 
been  arrested  there.  The  fugitives,  it  was  said,  had  then 
returned  to  Aix.  There,  all  trace  of  them  was  lost.  Had 
they  attempted  to  cross  the  frontier  ?  Had  they  remained 
in  hiding  among  the  hills  ?  No  one  seemed  to  know. 

Marius  was  all  the  more  anxious  because  he  had  been 
obliged  to  neglect  his  work  at  the  ship-owner  Martelly's. 
If  he  had  not  been  fixed  to  his  desk  by  duty,  he  would 
have  hastened  to  Philippe's  assistance,  and  would  have 
personally  occupied  himself  with  his  safety.  But  he  dared 
not  leave  the  business  where  his  services  were  required. 
M.  Martelly  showed  him  quite  a  paternal  sympathy.  A 
widower  for  several  years  past  and  living  with  one  of  his 
sisters,  who  was  twenty-three  years  of  age,  he  treated 
Marius  like  a  son.  On  the  morrow  of  the  scandal  raised 
by  M.  de  Cazalis,  the  ship-owner  called  the  young  man 
into  his  private  office. 

"Ah!  my  friend,"  he  exclaimed,  "this  is  a  very  un- 
pleasant matter.  Your  brother  is  done  for.  We  shall 
never  be  strong  enough  to  save  him  from  the  terrible  con- 
sequences of  his  folly!" 

M.  Martelly  belonged  to  the  liberal  party,  and  was  noted 
for  the  southern  violence  of  his  opinions.  He  had  already 
had  some  spars  with  M.  de  Cazalis,  and  therefore  knew 
his  man.  His  strict  probity,  his  immense  fortune,  placed 
him  beyond  all  attack  ;  but  he  possessed  the  haughtiness 
of  his  liberalism,  and  took  a  sort  of  pride  in  never  making 
use  of  his  power.  He  advised  Marius  to  keep  quiet  and 
await  events  ;  he  would  render  him  all  his  assistance,  once 
the  struggle  was  started.  Marius,  consumed  by  his  fever, 
was  about  to  ask  him  for  leave  of  absence,  when  Fine, 
all  in  tears,  appeared  one  morning  before  him. 

"The  gentleman  has  been  arrested!"  she  exclaimed, 
between  her  sobs.  "They  found  him,  with  the  young 
lady,  in  a  cottage  in  the  Trois-bons-Dieux  quarter,  about 
a  league  from  Aix." 

And,  as  Marius,  greatly  agitated,  rushed  downstairs  to 
make  inquiries,  which  only  too  fully  bore  out  the  truth  of 


22  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Fine's  statement,  she,  still  in  tears,  smiled  and  said  in  a 
low  voice  : 

"At  any  rate,  the  young  lady  is  no  longer  with  him." 

CHAPTER  V. 

BLANCHE  JOURNEYS   SIX   LEAGUES   ON  FOOT, 
AND   SEES   A   PROCESSION   PASS   BY. 

BLANCHE  and  Philippe  left  the  gardener's  house  at  dusk, 
at  about  half-past  seven  o'clock.  During  the  day,  they 
had  noticed  gendarmes  on  the  road ;  they  were  assured 
that  they  would  be  arrested  that  evening,  and  fright  drove 
them  from  this  their  first  retreat.  Philippe  put  on  a 
peasant's  blouse,  whilst  Blanche  borrowed  a  workwoman's 
dress  from  the  gardener's  wife,  a  red  cotton  gown  with  a 
flowery  pattern  and  a  black  apron ;  she  put  a  yellow 
check  fichu  round  her  breast  and  a  big  coarse  straw  hat 
on  her  head.  Victor,  the  son  of  the  house,  a  lad  of 
fifteen,  accompanied  them,  to  show  them  the  way  across 
the  fields  to  the  Aix  road. 

The  warm  night  air  was  full  of  murmurs.  A  hot  breath 
rose  from  the  earth,  counteracting  the  fresh  breeze  which 
was  wafted,  now  and  again,  from  the  Mediterranean.  A 
bright  light,  like  the  reflection  of  a  fire,  still  illumined  the 
west;  the  rest  of  the  sky  was  of  a  violet  blue,  gradually  growing 
paler  in  colour,  while  the  stars  appeared  one  by  one  in 
the  night,  similar  to  the  flickering  lights  of  a  distant  town. 

The  fugitives  hastened  along  with  bowed  heads,  and 
without  exchanging  a  word.  They  were  in  a  hurry  to 
find  themselves  amidst  the  solitude  of  the  hills.  So  long 
as  they  were  crossing  the  outskirts  of  Marseilles,  they  met 
a  few  passers-by,  whom  they  eyed  with  distrust.  At  last 
the  open  country  spread  out  before  them,  and  the  only 
human  beings  they  encountered  were  now  and  again  some 
grave  shepherds  standing  at  the  edge  of  the  path,  watching 
their  flocks. 

And  their  flight  continued  in  the  gloom  and  the  emo- 
tional silence  of  the  serene  night.  Vague  sounds  floated 


BLANCHE  JOURNEYS  SIX  LEAGUES  ON  FOOT.  23 

around  them ;  pebbles  rolled  beneath  their  feet  with  a 
noise  that  filled  them  with  uneasiness.  The  sleeping 
country-side  extended  like  a  black  mass  in  the  monotony 
of  the  darkness.  Blanche,  affrighted,  clung  to  Philippe, 
hastening  her  little  footsteps  in  order  to  keep  up  with 
him ;  she  heaved  deep  sighs  as  she  recalled  the  peace- 
fulness  of  her  nights  at  home. 

Then  they  reached  the  hills,  with  the  deep  ravines 
which  had  to  be  crossed.  Around  Marseilles  the  roads 
are  soft  and  easy ;  but  out  in  the  country  one  meets  those 
rocky  ridges  which  cut  up  the  whole  centre  of  Provence 
into  narrow,  sterile  valleys.  Uncultivated  plains,  stony 
slopes,  with  here  and  there  some  sorry  tufts  of  thyme  and 
lavender,  now  extended  before  the  fugitives  in  all  their 
desolate  mournfulncss.  The  paths  wound  up  and  down 
the  sides  of  the  hills ;  fallen  rock  now  and  again  blocked 
the  way;  beneath  the  bluish  serenity  of  the  heavens,  one 
could  have  fancied  it  a  sea  of  pebbles,  an  ocean  of  stones 
stricken  with  eternal  immobility  in  the  midst  of  a  hurricane. 

Victor,  leading  the  way,  softly  whistled  a  Provencal  air 
as  he  jumped  from  rock  to  rock  with  the  agility  of  a 
chamois;  he  had  grown  up  amid  this  desert  and  was 
acquainted  with  its  innermost  recesses.  Blanche  and 
Philippe  followed  him  laboriously;  the  young  man  was 
supporting  the  girl,  whose  feet  were  rut  by  the  sharp  stones 
on  the  way.  She  did  not  complain,  and  whenever  her 
lover  gazed  inquiringly  into  her  face  in  the  transparent 
darkness,  she  smiled  to  him  with  sad  sweetness. 

They  had  just  passed  Septemc,  when  the  young  girl, 
worn  out,  sank  to  the  ground.  The  moon  slowly  rising 
in  the  heavens  lit  up  her  pale  face  bathed  in  tears. 
Philippe  bent  over  her  in  great  distress. 

"You  are  crying,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  arc  in  pain,  my 
poor,  darling  child !  Ah !  it  was  cowardly  of  me  to  keep 
you  with  me,  was  it  not?" 

"  Do  not  say  that,  Philippe,"  replied  Blanche.  "  I  am 
weeping  because  I  am  a  miserable  girl.  Sec,  I  ran  scarcely 
walk.  We  should  have  done  better  to  have  fallen  on  our 
knees  before  my  uncle  and  have  implored  him  with 
clasped  hands." 


24  THE    MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

She  regained  her  feet  with  an  effort,  and  they  continued 
their  journey  over  the  arid  hills.  It  was  far  different  from 
the  gay  and  foolish  escapade  of  a  couple  of  lovers ;  it  was 
a  dismal  flight,  full  of  anxiety,  the  flight  of  a  guilty  couple, 
silent  and  quaking  with  fear.  They  traversed  the  Gardanne 
district,  struggling  during  five  hours  against  the  obstacles 
of  the  way.  At  last,  they  decided  to  descend  to  the  high 
road  leading  to  Aix,  and  there  they  were  able  to  proceed 
more  freely.  The  dust,  however,  nearly  blinded  them. 

When  they  reached  the  top  of  the  Arc  hill,  they  dismissed 
Victor.  Blanche  had  covered  six  leagues  among  the  rocks, 
on  foot,  in  less  than  six  hours;  she  sat  down  on  a  stone 
seat  at  the  gate  of  the  town,  and  declared  that  she  could 
not  proceed  any  further.  Philippe,  who  feared  to  be 
arrested  if  he  remained  at  Aix,  went  in  search  of  a  vehicle ; 
he  came  across  a  woman  driving  a  light  cart  who  agreed 
to  give  him  and  Blanche  a  lift  as  far  as  Lambesc,  whither 
she  was  bound. 

In  spite  of  the  jolting,  Blanche  fell  into  a  sound  sleep 
and  did  not  wake  up  until  they  were  nearing  their  des- 
tination. This  sleep  calmed  the  fever  of  her  blood  ;  she 
felt  soothed  and  stronger.  The  lovers  alighted  from  the 
vehicle  just  as  day  was  breaking,  a  fresh  and  radiant 
dawn  which  filled  them  with  hope.  The  terrors  of  the 
night  had  vanished ;  the  fugitives  had  forgotten  the  Septeme 
rocks,  and  were  walking  side  by  side  in  the  damp  grass, 
intoxicated  with  their  youth  and  love. 

Not  finding  M.  de  Girousse,  of  whom  Philippe  had 
intended  asking  hospitality,  they  went  to  an  inn,  where 
they  were  at  last  able  to  enjoy  a  day  of  peace.  On  the 
morrow,  Philippe  saw  M.  de  Girousse  who  had  returned. 
He  told  him  the  whole  story  and  asked  his  advice. 

"The  deuce!"  exclaimed  the  old  nobleman,  "your 
matter  is  serious.  You  know,  my  friend,  you're  but  a 
clodhopper ;  a  hundred  years  ago,  M.  de  Cazalis  would 
have  hanged  you  for  daring  to  touch  his  niece;  now- 
a-days,  he  can  only  have  you  cast  into  prison.  And  you 
may  be  sure  he  won't  omit  to  do  so." 

"But  what  had  I  better  do  now?" 

"  What  had   you   better   do  ?    Why,    restore  the  young 


BLANCHE  JOURNEYS   SIX   LEAGUES   ON   FOOT.     25 

lady  to  her  uncle,  and  make  for  the  frontier  as  fast  as 
you  can." 

"You  know  very  well  that  I  shall  never  do  that." 

"Very  well,  then  just  wait  quietly  until  you're  arrested. 
I've  no  other  advice  to  give  you.  So  there  ! " 

Beneath  a  friendly  abruptness,  M.  de  Girousse  hid  the 
kindest  heart  in  the  world.  As  Philippe,  confused  by  the 
•curtness  of  his  reception,  was  about  to  take  his  departure, 
he  called  him  back,  and,  taking  his  hand,  continued  with 
slight  bitterness  : 

"My  duty  would  be  to  have  you  arrested.  I  belong 
to  that  nobility  you  have  just  insulted.  Listen,  I  have 
somewhere  on  the  other  side  of  Lambesc  a  little  unoccu- 
pied house  of  which  I  will  give  you  the  key.  Go  and 
hide  yourselves  there,  but  don't  tell  me  you're  going  to 
do  so.  If  you  do,  I'll  send  the  gendarmes  after  you." 

It  was  thus  the  lovers  remained  nearly  a  week  at 
Lambesc.  They  lived  in  retirement,  amid  a  peacefulness 
broken  at  times  by  sudden  alarms.  Philippe  had  received 
the  thousand  francs  Marius  had  sent  him.  Blanche  was 
becoming  quite  a  little  housekeeper,  and  they  ate  out  of 
the  same  plate  with  delight.  This  new  life  was  like  a 
dream  to  the  young  girl.  At  times,  however,  she  would 
wonder  why  she  had  gone  off  with  Philippe  ;  she  would 
then  experience  a  revulsion  of  feeling,  and  wish  to  return 
to  her  uncle;  but  she  never  dared  say  so. 

It  was  then  the  time  of  the  feast  of  Corpus  Christi. 
One  afternoon,  as  Blanche  was  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow, she  saw  a  procession  pass  by.  She  knelt  down  and 
joined  her  hands,  and  fancied  she  could  see  herself  dressed 
in  white  among  the  singers.  Her  heart  was  bursting.  That 
night,  Philippe  received  an  anonymous  letter  warning  him 
that  he  would  be  arrested  on  the  morrow.  He  thought 
he  recognised  M.  de  Giroussc's  handwriting.  The  flight 
\vas  resumed,  more  difficult  and  painful. 


26    .  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE   HUNT   AFTER    THE   LOVERS. 

THEN  ensued  a  regular  rout,  a  race  without  truce  or 
repose,  an  ever-recurring  panic.  Driven  right  and  left 
by  their  fright,  perpetually  fancying  they  could  hear  the 
sound  of  horses'  hoofs  behind  them,  passing  their  nights 
hurrying  along  the  highways  and  their  days  trembling  in 
the  filthy  rooms  of  country  inns,  the  fugitives  crossed  and 
recrossed  the  whole  of  Provence,  going  before  them  and 
retracing  their  footsteps,  not  knowing  where  to  find  an 
unknown  retreat  hidden  on  the  confines  of  some  desert. 

They  left  Lambesc  one  terribly  stormy  night,  and  went 
in  the  direction  of  Avignon.  They  had  hired  a  little  cart, 
and  the  wind  nearly  blinded  their  horse.  Blanche  was 
shivering  in  her  thin  cotton  dress.  To  complete  their 
wretchedness,  they  thought  they  could  see  from  a  distance, 
at  one  of  the  gates  of  the  town,  some  gendarmes  examining 
the  faces  of  the  passers-by.  Thoroughly  frightened,  they 
retraced  their  steps,  and  returned  to  Lambesc  through  which 
they  only  passed. 

Arrived  at  Aix,  they  did  not  dare  stay  there,  and 
resolved  to  reach  the  frontier  at  no  matter  what  cost. 

There  they  would  procure  themselves  a  passport,  and 
be  in  safety.  Philippe,  who  knew  a  chemist  at  Toulon, 
decided  to  pay  a  visit  to  that  town.  He  expected  that 
his  friend  would  be  able  to  assist  him  in  his  flight.  The 
chemist,  a  big,  merry  fellow  named  Jourdan,  received  them 
very  well.  He  hid  them  in  his  own  room  and  promised 
to  at  once  try  and  obtain  them  a  passport. 

Jourdan  was  gone  out,  when  two  gendarmes  called. 
Blanche  nearly  fainted  away.  White  as  a  ghost  and  seated 
in  a  corner,  she  was  stifling  her  sobs.  Philippe,  in  a 
choking  voice,  asked  the  gendarmes  what  they  wanted. 

"Are  you  M.  Jourdan?"  one  of  them  inquired,  with  a 
roughness  whichforbode  nothing  good. 

"No,"  replied  the  young  man.  "  M.  Jourdan  is  out, 
but  will  soon  be  back." 


.THE   HUNT   AFTER   THE   LOVERS.  2/ 

"Very  well,"  said  the  gendarme  curtly;  and  he  seated 
himself  heavily. 

The  poor  lovers  scarcely  dared  look  at  each  other;  they 
felt  fit  to  faint  away  in  the  presence  of  these  men  who 
had,  no  doubt,  come  after  them.  Their  anguish  lasted  a 
good  half  hour.  At  length,  Jourdan  returned.  He  paled 
at  the  sight  of  the  gendarmes,  and  answered  their  questions 
with  the  greatest  confusion. 

"You  must  come  with  us,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"What   for?"    he   asked.      "What  am  I  accused  of?" 

"  You  are  charged  with  having  cheated  at  cards  last 
night  in  a  club.  You  will  be  able  to  give  your  explanations 
when  before  the  magistrate." 

A  shudder  passed  through  Jourdan's  frame.  He  was 
quite  dazed,  and  accompanied  the  gendarmes  with  the 
docility  of  a  child.  They  went  off  without  even  perceiving 
the  terror  of  the  lovers.  Jourdan's  affair  made  a  great 
sensation  at  Toulon  at  the  time.  But  no  one  knew  of 
the  painful  drama  which  had  been  enacted  at  the  chemist's, 
the  day  of  his  arrest. 

This  event  took  all  the  courage  out  of  Philippe.  He 
understood  that  he  was  not  strong  enough  to  evade  the 
police  who  were  on  his  track.  Besides,  he  had  now  no 
longer  any  hope  of  obtaining  a  passport,  and  would  therefore 
be  unable  to  cross  the  frontier.  Moreover,  he  saw  that 
Blanche's  strength  was  giving  way.  He  therefore  determined 
to  return  towards  Marseilles,  and  wait,  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  city,  until  M.  de  Cazalis'  anger  was  partly  appeased. 
Like  all  those  who  have  no  longer  any  ground  for  hope, 
he  had  at  times  ridiculous  visions  of  pardon  and  happiness. 

Philippe  had  a  relation  at  Aix  named  Isnard,  who  kept 
a  draper's  shop.  Not  knowing  where  to  obtain  hospitality, 
the  fugitives  returned  to  Aix,  to  ask  Isnard  for  the  key 
of  one  of  his  cottages.  A  fatality  pursued  them :  the 
draper  was  away,  and  they  were  obliged  to  hide  them- 
selves in  an  old  house  on  the  Cours  Sextius,  belonging  to 
a  cousin  of  M.  de  Girousse's  farmer.  This  woman  would 
not  at  first  receive  them,  fearing  she  might  be  called 
to  account,  later  on,  for  her  hospitality ;  she  only  yielded 
before  Philippe's  promises  to  procure  her  son's  exemption 


28  THE    MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

from  military  service.  The  young  man  was  no  doubt  in 
a  hopeful  frame  of  mind ;  he  could  already  see  himself  a 
deputy's  nephew,  and  was  disposing  freely  of  his  uncle's 
.great  influence. 

That  evening,  Isnard  came  to  the  lovers  and  handed 
them  the  key  of  a  cottage  he  owned  in  the  Puyricard 
plain.  He  had  two  others,  one  at  Tholonet  and  the 
other  in  the  district  of  the  Trois-bons-Dieux.  The  keys 
of  these  were  hidden  under  certain  great  stones  which  he 
•described  to  them.  He  advised  them  not  to  remain  two 
nights  running  beneath  the  same  roof,  and  promised  to 
•do  his  best  to  put  the  police  off  their  track. 

They  started  off  and  took  the  road  which  passes  beside 
the  hospital.  Isnard's  cottage  was  situated  to  the  right 
of  Puyricard,  between  the  village  and  the  road  leading  to 
Venelles.  It  was  one  of  those  ugly  little  buildings  formed 
of  lime-washed  stones  without  mortar,  and  enlivened  by 
-a  roof  of  red  tiles;  it  contained  but  one  room,  little  better 
than  a  dirty  stable;  straw  refuse  littered  the  ground  and 
.great  cobwebs  hung  from  the  ceiling.  They  had  fortunately 
brought  a  rug  with  them.  They  gathered  the  litter  into 
•a  corner  and  spread  the  rug  over  the  heap.  This  formed 
their  couch  amid  the  acrid  exhalations  of  the  dampness 
surrounding  them. 

On  the  morrow,  they  passed  the  day  in  a  hole  in  a 
dried-up  watercourse  called  the  Touloubre.  Then,  towards 
•evening,  they  gained  the  Venelles  road,  and  reached 
Tholonet  by  a  roundabout  way  in  order  to  avoid  passing 
through  Aix.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  they  arrived  at 
the  draper's  cottage  situated  below  the  Jesuit  oratory. 

This  cottage  was  rather  better.  It  had  two  rooms,  a 
kitchen  and  a  parlour,  which  latter  contained  a  fold-up  bed- 
stead; the  walls  were  covered  with  caricatures  cut  out  of 
the  Charivari,  and  strings  of  onions  hung  from  the  white- 
washed beams.  The  lovers  could  almost  fancy  themselves 
in  a  palace. 

In  the  morning  their  fright  returned;  they  climbed  the 
hill  and  remained  till  night-time  in  the  recesses  of  the 
Infernets.  In  those  days,  the  precipices  of  Jaumegarde 
still  possessed  all  their  sinister  horror;  the  Zola  canal  had 


THE  HUNT  AFTER  THE  LOVERS.       29. 

not  then  pierced  the  mountain,  and  strollers  did  not  often 
venture  into  that  dismal  abyss  of  reddish  rocks.  Blanche 
and  Philippe  enjoyed  profound  peacefulness  in  the  midst 
of  this  desert;  they  rested  long  beside  a  clear  and  mur- 
muring spring,  which  trickled  from  a  gigantic  mass  of  rock. 

At  night-fall  returned  the  cruel  question  of  shelter. 
Blanche  could  now  scarcely  walk;  her  wounded  feet  bled 
upon  the  sharp  and  pointed  stones.  Philippe  understood 
he  could  not  take  her  much  farther.  He  supported  her, 
and  they  slowly  ascended  to  the  level  ground  overlooking 
the  Infernets.  It  is  an  extensive  uncultivated  plain,  vast 
fields  of  pebbles,  waste  land  broken  up  here  and  there 
by  disused  quarries.  Nothing  looks  so  strangely  wild  as. 
this  broad  landscape  with  its  bare  horizon  dotted  here 
and  there  with  a  dark  and  stunted  vegetation ;  the  rocks, 
looking  like  distorted  limbs,  pierce  above  the  barren  earth ; 
the  plain,  having  the  appearance  of  a  humpback,  seems 
to  have  been  stricken  with  death  in  the  midst  of  the 
convulsions  of  a  terrible  agony. 

Philippe  hoped  to  find  some  hole,  some  cavern.  He 
had  the  good  luck  to  discover  a  shanty,  one  of  those 
shelters  in  which  sportsmen  hide  themselves  while  awaiting 
the  flight  of  birds  of  passage.  He  did  not  hesitate  to 
force  in  the  door,  and  seated  Blanche  upon  a  little  bench 
he  felt  beneath  his  hand.  Then  he  went  and  gathered 
a  quantity  of  thyme;  the  plain  is  covered  with  this  humble 
grey  plant  the  strong  perfume  of  which  rises  from  every  hill  of 
Provence.  He  carried  the  thyme  into  the  shelter,  and 
spread  it  in  the  form  of  a  mattress  over  which  he  laid  the 
rug.  The  bed  was  ready,  and  the  fugitives  kissed  each 
other  good  night  upon  this  miserable  couch. 

Philippe  was  unable  to  sleep,  the  strong  smell  of  the 
thyme  upon  which  he  was  lying  affected  his  bniin.  He 
dreamt  in  spite  of  his  wakefulness,  that  M.  de  Cazalis  had 
received  him  affectionately  and  that  he  had  been  elected 
deputy  in  his  uncle's  stead.  Now  and  again  he  could 
hear  Blanche's  mournful  sighs,  as  she  slumbered  beside 
him,  agitated  and  feverish.  The  voung  girl  had  come  to 
consider  her  flight  some  nightmare  full  of  bitter  pleasures. 
During  the  day  she  was  rendered  stupid  by  fatigue;  she 


30  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

smiled  sadly  and  never  complained.  Her  inexperience 
had  caused  her  to  agree  to  the  flight,  and  her  weak 
character  prevented  her  proposing  to  return.  She  belonged 
body  and  soul  to  this  man  who  carried  her  along;  all  she 
wished  was  to  have  to  walk  less,  she  continued  to  believe 
that  her  uncle  would  consent  to  her  marriage,  when  his 
temper  had  cooled. 

The  fugitives  left  their  bed  of  thyme  at  sunrise.  Their 
•clothes  were  becoming  terribly  torn,  and  their  shoes  were 
nearly  worn  out.  In  the  coolness  of  the  morning,  amid 
the  wild  perfumes  of  this  solitude,  they  forgot  their 
wretchedness  for  a  time,  and  declared  laughingly  that  they 
were  frightfully  hungry.  So  Philippe  told  Blanche  to  go  back 
to  the  hut  and  hurried  off  to  Tholonet  in  search  of  food. 
It  took  him  a  good  half-hour. 

When  he  returned  he  found  the  young  girl  in  a  state 
of  terror:  she  assured  him  she  had  seen  some  wolves 
prowling  about.  The  table  was  laid  on  a  large  flat  stone, 
and  they  were  like  a  couple  of  gipsy  lovers  breakfasting 
in  the  open  air.  After  breakfast,  they  made  for  the  centre 
of  the  plain,  and  remained  there  all  day.  These  were 
some  of  their  happiest  hours. 

But  when  twilight  fell,  fear  again  seized  them,  they 
dreaded  to  pass  another  night  amidst  all  that  solitude. 
The  pure  warm  air  of  the  hills  had  filled  them  with  gentler 
thoughts  and  hopes. 

"  You  are  tired,  my  poor  child  ?  "  asked  Philippe. 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  she  replied. 

"  Listen,  we  must  perform  one  more  journey.  Let-  us 
go  as  far  as  Isnard's  cottage  in  the  Trois-bons-Dieux 
district,  and  remain  there  until  your  uncle  forgives  us  or 
has  me  arrested." 

"  My  uncle  will  forgive  us." 

"  I  dare  not  think  it.  In  any  case  I  will  no  longer  fly, 
you  have  need  of  rest.  Come,  let  us  walk  slowly." 

They  crossed  the  plain,  leaving  the  Infernets  behind 
them,  and  passing  the  Chateau  of  Saint  Marc,  which  they 
could  see  on  an  eminence  on  their  right.  They  reached 
their  destination  at  the  end  of  an  hour. 

Isnard's    cottage    was   on    the   slope   of  the   hill  which 


THE  HUNT  AFTER  THE  LOVERS.       31 

stretches  to  the  left  of  the  Vauvenargues  road  after  one 
has  passed  the  Repentance  glen.  It  was  a  small,  one- 
storied  house ;  the  ground  door  consisted  of  a  single  room, 
containing  a  rickety  table  and  three  old  rush-bottomed 
chairs.  A  ladder  led  to  the  upper  room,  a  kind  of  loft 
almost  entirely  bare,  and  containing  merely  a  wretched 
mattress  on  a  heap  of  hay.  Isnard  had  considerately 
placed  a  sheet  at  the  foot  of  the  mattress. 

Philippe's  intention  was  to  go  on  the  morrow  to  Aix, 
and  procure  information  as  to  M.  de  Cazalis'  intentions 
towards  him.  He  felt  that  he  would  be  unable  to  hide 
himself  any  longer.  He  went  to  rest  in  an  almost  peaceful 
frame  of  mind,  calmed  by  Blanche's  kind  words  as  she 
judged  events  with  all  a  young  girl's  hopefulness. 

It  was  now  twenty  days  that  the  fugitives  had  been 
running  about  the  country,  and  during  this  time  the 
gendarmes  had  been  scouring  the  neighbourhood,  follow- 
ing on  their  track,  sometimes  losing  it,  but  always  getting 
set  right  again  by  some  slight  circumstance. 

The  deputy's  anger  had  only  increased  with  the  delay; 
his  pride  was  irritated  by  each  fresh  obstacle.  At  Lam- 
besc,  the  gendarmes  came  a  few  hours  too  late ;  the 
arrival  of  the  fugitives  at  Toulon  was  not  known  until  the 
morrow  of  their  return  to  Aix;  everywhere  they  escaped 
as  though  by  a  miracle. 

The  deputy  ended  by  accusing  the  police  of  being 
lukewarm.  He  was  informed  at  last  that  the  lovers  were 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Aix,  and  that  they  were  on  the 
point  of  being  arrested.  He  hastened  there  to  assist  in 
the  search. 

The  woman  of  the  (Jours  Sextius,  who  had  given  them 
hospitality  for  a  few  hours,  was  seized  with  terror.  To 
avoid  being  accused  of  complicity,  she  told  all  she  knew, 
and  said  that  they  were  probably  hidden  in  one  of 
Isnard's  cottages.  Isnard,  who  was  questioned,  quietly 
denied  everything.  He  declared  that  he  had  not  seen 
his  relative  for  several  months  past.  Thi.s  was  happening 
at  the  very  time  Philippe  and  Blanche  were  entering  the 
cottage  in  the  Trois-bons-Dieux  district.  The  draper  was 
unable  to  warn  the  lovers  during  the  night. 


32  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

At  five  o'clock  the  next  morning  a  police  commissary 
called  on  him  and  informed  him  that  he  was  going  to 
search  his  house  and  three  cottages. 

M.  de  Cazalis  remained  at  Aix,  saying  he  was 
afraid  he  would  kill  his  niece's  abductor,  if  he  ever  met 
him  face  to  face.  The  officers  sent  to  search  the  cottage 
at  Puyricard  found  the  nest  empty.  Isnard  obligingly 
offered  to  lead  two  gendarmes  to  his  place  at  Tholonet, 
feeling  certain  that  they  would  waste  their  time.  The 
police  commissary,  also  accompanied  by  two  gendarmes, 
went  to  the  Trois-bons-Dieux.  He  took  a  locksmith  with 
him,  Isnard  having  vaguely  stated  that  the  key  of  the 
cottage  was  hidden  under  a  stone  on  the  right  of  the 
door. 

It  was  about  six  o'clock  when  the  commissary  arrived 
there.  Everything  was  closed,  and  not  a  sound  came  from 
inside.  He  went  forward  and,  hammering  on  the  door 
with  his  fist,  exclaimed  in  a  loud  voice : 

"  Open  in  the  name  of  the  law !  " 

Echo  alone  answered.  Nothing  stirred.  After  waiting 
a  few  minutes,  the  commissary  turned  towards  the  lock- 
smith, saying : 

"  Pick  the  lock. " 

The  locksmith  selected  his  tools,  and  the  grating  of  the 
iron  could  soon  be  heard  in  the  silence.  The  shutter  of 
a  window  was  then  violently  thrown  back,  and  Philippe 
Cayol,  disdainful  and  angry,  his  neck  and  arms  bare, 
appeared  in  the  bright  light  of  the  rising  sun. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked,  leaning  on  the  win- 
dow-sill. 

The  first  blow  struck  by  the  commissary  had  awoke  the 
fugitives.  Seated  on  the  edge  of  the  mattress,  still  half 
asleep,  they  listened  anxiously  to  the  voices  without. 

The  words  "  In  the  name  of  the  law !  "  that  cry  which 
rings  so  terribly  in  the  ears  of  the  guilty,  struck  the  young 
man  full  in  the  chest.  He  jumped  up,  quivering,  bewild- 
ered, not  knowing  what  to  do.  The  young  girl,  huddled 
up  in  the  sheet,  her  eyes  still  heavy  with  sleep,  was 
shedding  tears  of  shame  and  despair. 

Philippe  understood  that  all  was  over,  and  that  he  had 


THE  HUNT  AFTER  THE  LOVERS.        33 

only  to  surrender  himself.  But  a  dull  feeling  of  revolt 
rose  within  him.  So  his  dreams  were  dead,  he  would 
never  be  Blanche's  husband,  he  had  carried  off  an  heiress 
to  be  himself  cast  into  gaol :  instead  of  the  happy  existence 
he  had  dreamed  of,  he  ended  by  gaining  a  prison  cell. 
Then  a  cowardly  thought  passed  through  his  mind :  it 
occurred  to  him  to  leave  the  girl  there  and  fly  in  the 
direction  of  Vauvenargues,  in  the  denies  of  Sainte-Victoire ; 
perhaps  he  could  escape  by  a  window  at  the  back  of  the 
cottage.  He  bent  over  Blanche,  and  in  a  low,  hesitating 
voice  told  her  of  his  project.  The  young  girl,  half  stifled  by 
her  sobs,  did  not  understand  nor  even  hear  him.  He  saw, 
with  anguish,  that  she  was  not  in  a  state  to  assist  his  flight. 

At  this  moment  he  heard  the  sound  of  the  workman 
picking  the  lock.  The  poignant  drama  that  had  just  been 
enacted  in  that  bare  room  had  lasted  at  most  a  minute. 
He  felt  himself  lost,  and  his  chafed  pride  restored  his 
courage.  Had  he  been  armed  he  would  have  defended 
himself.  But  conscious  that  he  was  no  abductor,  Blanche 
having  accompanied  him  voluntarily,  he  felt  that  he  had 
nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  So  he  angrily  pushed  back 
the  shutter  and  asked  what  was  wanted. 

"  Open  the  door,"  ordered  the  police  commissary.  "  We 
will  tell  you  afterwards  what  we  want." 

Philippe  went  down  and  opened  the  door. 

"  Are  you  M.  Philippe  Cayol  ?  "  resumed  the  commissary. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  young  man  energetically. 

"  Then  I  arrest  you  on  the  charge  of  abduction.  You 
have  carried  off  a  young  girl  under  sixteen  years  of  age, 
who  is  no  doubt  hidden  here  with  you." 

Philippe  smiled,  and  said  :  "  Mademoiselle  Blanche  do 
Cazalis  is  upstairs,  and  can  tell  you  if  I  used  any  violence 
towards  her.  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  talking  of 
abduction.  I  was  about  to  go  this  very  day  to  M.  de 
Cazalis  and  ask  him  for  his  niece's  hand  in  marriage." 

Blanche,  pale  and  shivering,  had  just  come  down  the 
ladder.  She  had  dressed  herself  hastily. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  the  commissary,  "I  have  orders 
to  take  you  to  your  uncle,  who  is  awaiting  you  at  Aix. 
He  is  in  great  grief." 


34  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

"I  am  deeply  sorry  for  having  displeased  my  uncle," 
replied  Blanche  with  some  firmness.  "  But  you  must  not 
accuse  M.  Cayol,  whom  I  accompanied  of  my  own  free 
will. " 

And  deeply  affected,  on  the  point  of  again  bursting  into 
sobs,  she  turned  towards  the  young  man  and  continued : 

"  Have  hope,  Philippe.  I  love  you  and  will  beseech 
my  uncle  to  be  good  to  us.  Our  separation  will  only  last 
a  few  days." 

Philippe  looked  at  her  sadly  and  shook  his  head. 

"You  are  a  weak  and  timid  child,"  he  replied  slowly. 
Then  he  added  in  a  harsher  tone :  "  Remember,  only,  that 
you  belong  to  me.  If  you  forsake  me  you  will  find  me 
ever  in  your  life,  the  recollection  of  my  kisses  will  never 
cease  scorching  your  lips,  and  that  will  be  your  punish- 
ment. " 

She  was  weeping. 

"  Love  me  well,  as  I  love  you,"  he  resumed  more  gently. 

The  police  commissary  placed  Blanche  in  a  carriage  he 
had  had  brought  to  the  spot,  and  took  her  back  to  Aix, 
whilst  the  two  gendarmes  marched  Philippe  off  and  placed 
him  in  the  prison  of  the  town. 

CHAPTER  VII. 
BLANCHE  DENIES   HER   LOVE. 

THE  news  of  the  arrest  did  not  reach  Marseilles  until 
the  following  day,  and  caused  quite  a  sensation.  M.  de 
Cazalis  was  observed  driving  along  the  Cannebiere  in  the 
afternoon,  accompanied  by  his  niece. 

The  gossips  had  their  fill;  every  one  spoke  of  the 
deputy's  triumphant  attitude,  and  of  Blanche's  shame  and 
embarrassment.  M.  de  Cazalis  was  capable  of  dragging 
his  niece  throughout  Marseilles,  to  show  the  people  she 
had  returned  to  his  protection,  and  that  no  woman  of 
his  race  would  marry  beneath  her. 

Marius,  informed  by  Fine,  was  out  and  about  all  day. 
The  common  talk  of  the  town  confirmed  the  tidings,  and 


BLANCHE   DENIES    HER   LOVE.  35 

he  was  able  to  pick  up  all  the  details  of  the  arrest.  In 
a  few  hours  the  event  had  become  legendary,  and  the 
shopkeepers,  the  idlers  and  loafers  related  it  as  though 
it  had  been  the  marvellous  tale  of  something  that  had 
happened  a  century  before.  The  young  man,  tired  of 
hearing  these  cock-and-bull  stories,  went  to  his  office,  his 
head  aching  and  his  brain  incapable  of  deciding  what  course 
to  pursue. 

Unfortunately.  M.  Martelly  would  be  away  until  the 
following  evening,  and  Marius  felt  the  need  of  doing  some- 
thing at  once.  He  would  have  liked  to  have  immediately 
taken  some  steps  that  would  have  reassured  him  as  to 
his  brother's  fate.  His  first  alarm  had  now,  however, 
partly  subsided.  He  reflected  that  after  all  his  brother 
could  not  be  accused  of  abduction,  and  that  Blanche 
would  be  there  to  defend  him.  He  ended  by  naively 
imagining  that  it  was  his  duty  to  call  upon  M.  de  Cazalis 
and  ask  him  for  his  niece's  hand  in  Philippe's  name.  On 
the  following  morning  he  dressed  himself  in  black,  and  was 
going  out  when  Fine  came  as  usual.  The  poor  girl  turned 
quite  pale  when  Marius  told  her  what  he  was  about  to  do. 

"Will  you  permit  me  to  accompany  you?"  she  asked, 
in  a  beseeching  tone  of  voice.  "  I  will  wait  outside  to 
learn  the  answer  of  the  young  lady  and  her  uncle." 

She  followed  Marius,  and  when  they  arrived  at  the 
Cours  Bonaparte,  the  young  man  walked  firmly  to  the 
deputy's  house  and  sent  up  his  name. 

M.  de  Cazalis'  blind  passion  had  now  subsided.  He 
held  his  vengeance.  He  would  be  able  to  prove  his 
might  by  crushing  one  of  those  republicans,  whom  he 
detested.  Now,  his  sole  desire  was  to  taste  the  joy  of 
playing  with  his  prey.  So  he  ordered  that  M.  Marius 
Cayol  should  be  admitted.  He  expected  tears,  earnest 
supplications.  The  young  man  found  him  standing  up 
haughtily  in  the  centre  of  a  vast  saloon.  He  advanced 
towards  him,  and,  without  giving  him  time  to  speak,  said, 
calmly  and  politely : 

'•  I  have  the  honour  to  ask  you,  sir,  in  the  name  of 
my  brother.  M.  Philippe  Cayol,  for  the  hand  of  your 
niece,  Mademoiselle  Blanche  de  Cazalis." 


36  THE   MYSTERIES   OF    MARSEILLES. 

The  deputy  was  thunderstruck.  Harms'  request  seemed 
to  him  so  absurdly  extravagant  that  it  failed  to  anger 
him.  He  stepped  back,  looking  the  young  man  straight 
in  the  face,  and  answered  with  a  disdainful  laugh : 

"  You  must  be  mad,  sir.  I  know  that  you  are  an 
industrious  and  honest  fellow,  and  it  is  for  that  reason 
that  I  do  not  have  you  put  out.  Your  brother  is  a 
scoundrel,  a  knave,  who  shall  be  punished  as  he  deserves. 
What  do  you  want  with  me?" 

On  hearing  his  brother  insulted,  Marius  felt  a  great 
desire  to  strike  the  noble  personage,  as  one  of  the  rabble 
would  have  done.  He  restrained  himself,  however,  and 
continued,  in  a  voice  that  was  beginning  to  tremble  with 
emotion : 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  sir.  I  am  here  to  offer  Made- 
moiselle de  Cazalis  the  only  reparation  possible,  that  is 
to  say,  marriage.  The  wrong  that  has  been  done  her 
can  thus  be  effaced." 

"We  are  above  any  wrong,"  exclaimed  the  deputy, 
with  contempt.  "  The  shame  for  a  Cazalis  is  not  that 
she  has  had  anything  to  do  with  a  Philippe  Cayol.  Her 
shame  would  be  to  ally  herself  to  such  people  as  you." 

"  Such  people  as  we,  have  other  ideas  as  regards  honour. 
However,  I  will  not  dwell  upon  it;  my  duty  alone  prompted 
me  to  offer  you  the  reparation  you  refuse.  Permit  me 
merely  to  add,  that  your  niece  would  no  doubt  accept  this 
offer  if  I  had  the  honour  of  making  it  to  her  in  person." 

"You  think  so?"  said  M.  de  Cazalis  sarcastically. 

He  rang  the  bell  and  requested  the  servant  to  ask  his 
niece  to  come  to  him  at  once.  Blanche  entered,  pale- 
faced  and  red-eyed,  looking  worn-out  by  her  too  powerful 
emotions.  She  shuddered  on  beholding  Marius. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  her  uncle  coldly,  "  this  gentleman 
has  asked  for  your  hand  on  behalf  of  the  scoundrel  whose 
name  I  will  not  pronounce  in  your  presence.  Tell  the 
gentleman  what  you  told  me  yesterday." 

Blanche  reeled.  She  dared  not  look  at  Marius.  Her 
eyes  fixed  upon  her  uncle,  her  whole  frame  trembling, 
she  murmured  in  a  weak  and  hesitating  voice : 

"  I    told    you    I    had   been   carried   off  by    force,    and 


BLANCHE   DENIES   HER   LOVE.  37 

that  I  would  do  all  in  my  power  to  secure  the  punishment 
of  the  odious  attempt  made  upon  me." 

These  words  were  uttered  like  a  lesson  learnt  beforehand. 
Blanche  denied  her  love.  M.  de  Cazalis  had  not  lost 
his  time.  As  soon  as  his  niece  was  in  his  power,  he 
influenced  her  with  all  the  weight  of  his  obstinacy  and 
pride.  She  alone  could  secure  his  ultimate  success.  It 
was  necessary  that  she  should  lie  and  stifle  her  feelings, 
that  she  should  become  a  compliant  and  passive  instrument 
in  his  hands. 

During  four  hours  he  kept  her  under  the  spell  of  his 
sharp,  cold  words.  He  was  not  so  foolish  as  to  give  vent 
to  his  rage.  He  spoke  with  crushing  haughtiness,  recall- 
ing the  ancient  origin  of  his  race,  displaying  his  wealth 
and  power.  He  skilfully  showed  her  on  the  one  hand 
the  picture  of  a  vulgar  and  ridiculous  marriage,  and  on 
the  other  the  noble  joys  of  a  rich  and  great  alliance.  He 
attacked  the  young  girl  through  her  vanity,  tired  her 
out,  broke  her  spirit,  dulled  her  intellect,  and  rendered 
her  such  as  he  desired,  tractable  and  inert. 

Blanche  emerged  from  this  long  interview,  this  continuous 
martyrdom,  utterly  vanquished.  Perhaps,  beneath  the  sting 
of  her  unc'e's  overpowering  words,  her  patrician  blood  had 
at  length  revolted  at  the  memory  of  Philippe's  vulgar 
love;  perhaps  her  childhood's  dreams  were  called  up  as 
the  deputy  descanted  on  luxurious  costumes,  worldly 
elegance,  and  honours  of  all  kinds.  Moreover,  her  head 
was  too  bad,  her  heart  too  sore  for  her  to  resist  that 
terrible  will.  Every  sentence  M.  de  Cazalis  uttered  struck 
her,  crushed  her,  filled  her  with  painful  anxiety.  She  no 
longer  felt  the  power  of  having  a  will  of  her  own.  She 
had  loved  and  accompanied  Philippe  through  weakness; 
now  she  was  turning  against  him  also  through  weakness: 
she  was  ever  the  same  timid  being.  She  accepted  every- 
thing and  promised  everything.  She  longed  to  escape 
from  the  stilling  weight  with  which  her  uncle's  words  were 
crushing  her. 

On  hearing  her  make  her  strange  declaration,  Marius 
stood  amazed  and  terrified.  He  remembered  the  young 
girl's  attitude  when  at  Ayasse  the  gardener's,  he  could 


38  THE    MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

recall  her  clinging  to  Philippe's  neck,  loving  and  confiding. 

"Ah!  mademoiselle,"  he  exclaimed  bitterly,  "the  odious 
attempt  you  speak  of  did  not  seem  to  fill  you  with  such 
abhorrence  the  day  you  beseeched  me  to  implore  your 
uncle's  pardon  and  consent !  Have  you  reflected  that  your 
falsehood  will  cause  the  ruin  of  the  man  you  perhaps  still 
love,  and  who  should  be  your  husband?" 

Blanche,  now  erect,  her  lips  tightly  drawn  together,  was 
looking  vaguely  in  front  of  her. 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  she  stammered.  "I 
have  told  no  falsehood.  I  yielded  to  force.  That  man 
took  advantage  of  me,  and  my  uncle  will  avenge  the 
honour  of  our  family." 

Marius  drew  himself  up.  Dignified  anger  increased 
his  short  stature,  and  his  feeling  of  justice  and  truth  made 
his  thin  face  appear  handsome.  He  looked  around  him 
contemptuously,  and  said,  slowly : 

"  And  yet  I  am  in  the  home  of  the  Cazalis,  of  the 
descendants  of  that  illustrious  family  which  is  the  glory 
of  Provence.  I  had  no  idea  that  falsehood  dwelt  in  this 
abode,  I  never  expected  to  find  calumny  and  cowardice 
lodging  here  side  by  side.  Oh !  you  shall  hear  me  to  the 
end.  I  intend  to  cast  my  lackey's  dignity  in  the  teeth 
of  my  unworthy  superiors." 

Turning  towards  the  deputy,  he  continued,  as  he  pointed 
to  the  trembling  girl: 

"  That  child  is  innocent,  and  I  forgive  her  weakness. 
But  you,  sir,  you  are  a  clever  man,  you  safeguard  the 
honour  of  your  women  by  making  them  untruthful  and 
fainthearted.  Were  you  now  to  offer  me  the  hand  of 
Mademoiselle  Blanche  de  Cazalis  for  my  brother,  I  should 
refuse  it,  for  I  have  never  lied,  I  have  never  been  guilty 
of  a  base  action,  and  I  should  blush  to  be  allied  to 
such  people  as  you." 

M.  de  Cazalis  bent  beneath  the  young  man's  rage.  At 
the  first  insult  he  had  summoned  a  big  valet,  who  stood 
at  the  open  door.  As  he  signed  to  him  to  put  Marius 
into  the  street,  the  latter  resumed,  with  terrible  energy : 

"  I  swear  I  will  shout  out  '  murder'  if  this  man  moves 
a  foot.  Let  me  pass.  One  day,  sir,  I  may  be  able  to 


THE  IRON  POT  AGAINST  THE  EARTHEN  EWER.        39 

fling  in  your  face,  before  all  the  world,  the  truths  I  have 
just  told  you  in  this  room." 

And  he  walked  out  slowly  and  firmly.  He  no  longer 
thought  of  Philippe's  guilt,  his  brother  had  become  in  his 
eyes  a  victim  whom  he  was  determined  to  save  and  avenge 
at  no  matter  what  cost.  In  this  upright  nature,  the  slightest 
untruth  or  injustice  raised  a  tempest.  Already,  the  scandal 
stirred  up  by  M.  de  Cazalis  at  the  time  of  the  elopement, 
had  caused  him  to  take  the  fugitives'  part ;  now  that 
Blanche  lied  and  the  deputy  resorted  to  calumny,  he 
longed  to  be  all-powerful,  in  order  to  proclaim  the  truth 
from  the  house-tops. 

Fine,   a    prey    to  anxiety,  was  waiting  for  him  outside. 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  the  young  woman,  as  soon  as  she  caught 
sight  of  him. 

"Well!"  he  replied,  "those  people  are  miserable  liars 
and  vain  fools." 

Fine  drew  a  deep  breath,  whilst  a  blush  spread  over 
her  cheeks. 

"So,"  she  resumed,  "  M.  Philippe  is  not  to  marry  the 
young  lady?  " 

"  The  young  lady,"  said  Marius,  smiling  bitterly,  "  pretends 
that  Philippe  is  a  scoundrel  who  carried  her  off  by  force. 
My  brother  is  lost." 

Fine  did  not  understand.  She  bowed  her  head,  wonder- 
ing how  the  young  lady  could  treat  her  lover  as  a 
scoundrel.  And  she  thought  how  happy  she  would  have 
been  had  Philippe  carried  her  off,  even  by  force.  Marius' 
anger  delighted  her:  the  marriage  would  never  take  place. 

"  Your  brother  is  lost,"  she  murmured  in  a  soft,  wheedling 
voice,  "Oh!  I  will  save  him,  or,  rather,  we  will  save  him 
together!  " 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE   IRON    POT    AGAINST    THE   EARTHEN    EWER. 

WHEN*  Marius  told  M.  Martelly,  that  evening,  of  the 
interview  he  had  had  with  M.  de  Cazalis.  the  ship-owner 
said,  as  he  shook  his  head  : 


4O  THE   MYSTERIES  OF   MARSEILLES. 

"I  do  not  know  what  advice  to  give  you,  my  friend. 
I  do  not  wish  to  drive  you  to  despair;  but  you  will  be 
conquered,  take  my  word  for  it.  Your  duty  is  to  enter 
upon  the  struggle,  and  I  will  assist  you  to  the  best  of  my 
ability.  Yet  we  had  better  admit  to  each  other  that  we 
are  weak  and  unarmed  in  the  presence  of  an  adversary 
who  has  the  clergy  and  nobility  behind  him.  Marseilles 
and  Aix  have  little  love  for  the  July  monarchy,  and  these 
two  towns  are  both  wholly  devoted  to  a  deputy  of  the 
opposition  which  is  waging  such  a  war  against  M.  Thiers. 
They  will  assist  M.  de  Cazalis  in  his  revenge;  I  am  alluding 
to  the  big-wigs,  the  common  people  would  help  us  if  they 
were  able  to  help  anyone.  The  best  thing  would  be  to 
win  over  some  influential  member  of  the  clergy  to  our 
cause.  Do  you  know  any  priest  who  is  in  favour  with 
our  bishop  ?  " 

Marius  replied  that  he  only  knew  Abbe  Chastanier,  a 
poor  old  man  who  certainly  possessed  no  influence. 

"  Never  mind,  go  and  see  him,  "  said  the  shipowner. 
"  The  townspeople  cannot  be  of  any  use  to  us,  the  nobility 
would  show  us  the  door  if  we  asked  their  assistance,  so 
there  is  only  the  Church  left.  That  is  where  we  must 
apply.  Begin  your  campaign,  I  shall  be  busy  on  my 
side  also. " 

On  the  following  morning  Marius  went  to  Saint- Victor, 
where  Abbe  Chastanier  received  him  with  a  sort  of  timid 
embarrassment. 

"Don't  ask  me  to  do  anything,"  he  exclaimed,  at  the 
first  words  the  young  man  uttered.  "  It  is  known  that  I 
have  already  occupied  myself  with  this  affair,  and  I  have 
had  to  endure  some  grave  reproaches.  I  told  you  before, 
I  am  only  a  poor  man,  I  can  only  pray  for  you.  " 

Marius  was  affected  by  the  old  man's  humble  attitude, 
and  was  about  to  withdraw,  when  the  priest  detained 
him  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Listen,  there  is  a  man  here,  Abbe  Donadei,  who 
might  be  useful  to  you.  It  is  said  that  he  is  on  the  best 
of  terms  with  his  lordship.  He  is  a  foreign  priest,  an 
Italian,  I  think,  who  has  won  everybody's  goodwill  in 
a  few  months.  " 


THE  IRON  POT  AGAINST  THE  EARTHEN  EWER.        4  I 

He  stopped  speaking,  hesitating,  and  seeming  to  be 
inquiring  of  himself.  The  worthy  man  was  thinking  that 
he  was  about  to  compromise  himself  terribly,  but  he  could 
not  resist  the  joy  of  doing  a  kindness. 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  take  you  to  him  ?  "  he  asked, 
suddenly. 

Marius,  who  had  perceived  his  slight  hesitation,  sought  to 
decline;  but  the  old  man  insisted,  forgetting  entirely  his 
personal  tranquillity,  listening  only  to  the  promptings  of 
his  heart. 

"Come,"  he  resumed,  "Abbe  Donaclei  lives  only  a 
short  distance  off,  on  the  Boulevard  de  la  Corderie.  " 

After  a  few  minutes'  walk,  Abbe  Chastanier  stopped  at  a 
little  one-storeyed  house,  one  of  those  close  discreet  dwellings 
which  have  a  vague  air  of  the  confessional  about  them. 

"  Here  we  are,  "  said  he  to  Marius. 

An  old  woman-servant  opened  the  door,  and  conducted 
them  to  a  small  apartment  with  dark  hangings,  resem- 
bling some  austere  boudoir. 

Abbe  Donadei  received  them  with  easy  grace.  His 
pale  face,  with  delicate  features,  bore  a  slightly  cunning  ex- 
pression, and  did  not  show  the  least  surprise.  He  drew  some 
chairs  forward  in  a  coaxing  manner,  his  body  half  bent, 
a  slight  smile  about  his  lips,  doing  the  honours  of  his 
study  like  a  lady  does  those  of  her  drawing-room. 

He  wore  a  long  black  robe,  loose  at  the  waist.  But 
this  severe  costume  covered  coquettish  manners ;  his 
delicate  white  hands  appeared  quite  small  as  they  issued 
from  the  ample  sleeves,  and  his  clean-shaven  face  had  a 
soft  fresh  complexion  beneath  the  curly  locks  of  his 
chestnut-coloured  hair.  He  looked  about  thirty  years 
of  age. 

When  he  had  seated  himself  in  an  arm-chair,  he  listened 
with  smiling  gravity  to  what  Marius  had  to  say.  He 
made  him  repeat  all  the  spicier  details  of  Blanche's 
elopement,  and  the  storv  seemed  to  interest  him  immensely. 

Abbe  Donaclei  was  born  at  Rome,  and  had  an 
uncle  who  was  cardinal.  One  fine  day,  his  uncle  suddenly 
packed  him  off  to  France,  without  anybody  knowing 
exactlv  why.  On  his  arrival,  the  handsome  abbe  found 


42  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

himself  obliged  to  enter  the  Aix  seminary  as  teacher  of 
living  languages.  Such  an  humble  position  so  humiliated 
him  that  he  fell  ill.  The  cardinal  relented,  and 
recommended  his  nephew  to  the  bishop  of  Marseilles. 
His  ambition  satisfied,  Donadei  quickly  recovered.  He 
joined  the  clergy  of  Saint  Victor,  and,  as  Abbe  Chastanier 
had  naively  said,  he  succeeded  in  winning  everybody's 
goodwill  in  a  few  months.  His  caressing  Italian  nature, 
his  soft  pink  face,  turned  him  into  a  cherub  in  the  eyes 
of  the  demure  lady  devotees  of  the  parish.  He  was 
especially  successful  in  the  pulpit :  his  slight  foreign  accent 
gave  a  strange  charm  to  his  sermons;  and,  when  he  spread 
out  his  arms,  he  knew  how  to  cause  his  hands  to  tremble 
with  an  emotion  which  filled  the  eyes  of  his  congregation 
with  tears. 

Like  most  Italians,  he  was  a  born  intriguer.  He  used 
and  abused  his  uncle's  recommendation  to  the  bishop  of 
Marseilles,  and  soon  became  a  power,  an  occult  power 
working  underground,  and  digging  pitfalls  in  front  of 
those  persons  he  desired  to  remove  from  his  path.  Joining 
a  religious  club,  then  all-powerful  at  Marseilles,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  imposing  his  will  on  his  colleagues,  thanks  to 
his  suppleness,  his  perpetual  smile  and  humility,  and  in 
becoming  the  leader  of  a  party.  Then  he  interested  him- 
self in  every  event,  had  a  finger  in  every  pie.  It  was 
he  who  secured  M.  de  Cazalis'  election  as  deputy,  and 
he  was  awaiting  a  fitting  opportunity  to  claim  the  reward 
of  his  services.  His  plan  was  to  work  for  the  success  of 
wealthy  people ;  later  on,  when  he  had  merited  their 
gratitude,  he  intended  to  make  use  of  them  in  building 
up  his  own  fortune. 

He  questioned  Mariiis  courteously;  by  the  attention  he 
paid  him  and  his  sympathetic  manner,  he  seemed  fully 
disposed  to  assist  him  in  his  work  of  deliverance.  The 
young  man  allowed  himself  to  be  taken  in  by  this  pleasant, 
amiable  behaviour,  and  unburdened  himself,  relating  his 
plans,  and  owning  that  the  clergy  alone  could  save  his 
brother.  Finally,  he  begged  his  kind  offices  with  his 
lordship  the  bishop. 

Abbe  Donadei  rose,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  austere  raillery  : 


THE  IRON  POT  AGAINST  THE  EARTHEN  EWER.        43 

"  My  cloth,  sir,  forbids  ray  mixing  myself  up  in  this 
deplorable  and  scandalous  affair.  The  enemies  of  the 
Church  are  only  too  fond  of  accusing  the  clergy  of  inter- 
fering in  worldly  affairs.  I  can  only  beseech  the  Almighty 
to  pardon  your  brother." 

Marius,  in  dismay,  had  also  risen.  He  understood  that 
he  had  just  been  duped  by  Donadei.  He  sought,  however, 
to  disguise  his  feelings. 

"I  thank  you,"  he  replied.  "Prayers  are  indeed  the 
sweetest  of  alms  for  the  unfortunate.  Pray  that  we  may 
be  granted  the  justice  of  our  fellow  men." 

He  turned  towards  the  door,  followed  by  Abbe  Chastanier 
with  bowed  head.  Donadei  had  affected  to  ignore  the 
old  priest  When  they  were  on  the  point  of  leaving  the 
room,  the  handsome  abbe,  recovering  all  his  graceful 
sprightliness,  detained  Marius  a  moment. 

"You  are  employed  at  M.  Martelly's,  I  think?"  he 
asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  the  young  man  answered,  with  surprise. 

"  He  is  a  very  honourable  man.  I  know,  however,  that 
he  is  not  one  of  our  friends.  Nevertheless,  I  esteem  him 
greatly.  His  sister,  Mademoiselle  Claire,  whose  spiritual 
director  I  have  the  honour  of  being,  is  one  of  our  best 
parishioners." 

And  as  Marius  looked  at  him,  finding  nothing  to  say, 
Donadei  added,  with  a  slight  blush: 

"She    is    a    charming   person,   most  exemplarily  pious." 

He  bowed  with  exquisite  politeness  and  then  gently 
closed  the  door.  Outside  on  the  pavement,  Abbe  Chastanier 
and  Marius  looked  at  each  other,  and  the  young  man 
could  not  help  shrugging  his  shoulders.  The  old  priest 
was  quite  confused  at  having  seen  one  of  God's  ministers 
play  a  part  like  an  actor.  He  turned  to  his  companion, 
and  said,  hesitatingly: 

"  My  friend,  you  must  not  blame  the  Almighty  if  His 
ministers  are  not  always  what  they  should  be.  The  young 
man  we  have  just  been  with  is  only  guilty  of  ambition — 

He  continued  a  long  time  in  this  strain,  finding  excuses 
for  Donadei. 

Marius  watched  him,  affected  by  his  goodness;  and,  in 


44  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

spite  of  himself,  he  compared  this  poor  old  man  to  the 
powerful  abbe,  whose  smiles  were  law  in  the  diocese. 
Then  he  reflected  that  the  Church  did  not  love  all  her 
sons  equally,  but  like  most  mothers  spoilt  the  rosy-cheeked 
ones  and  neglected  the  tender  spirits  who  did  good  by 
stealth. 

The  two  visitors  were  moving  off  when  a  carriage  drew 
up  at  the  door  of  the  close,  discreet  little  house,  and 
Marius  beheld  M.  de  Cazalis  alight.  The  deputy  hastily 
entered  Abbe  Donadei's  abode. 

"  Look,  father !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man.  "  I  feel 
certain  that  priest's  cloth  will  not  prevent  his  abetting 
M.  de  Cazalis  in  his  vengeance." 

He  was  tempted  to  return  to  that  home  of  hypocrisy ; 
but,  calming  himself,  he  thanked  Abbe  Chastanier,  and 
went  off.  He  thought,  with  despair,  that  the  last  loophole 
of  safety,  the  one  in  possession  of  the  upper  clergy,  was 
closing  before  him. 

On  the  morrow,  M.  Martelly  told  him  the  result  of  a 
visit  he  had  paid  to  the  chief  notary  of  Marseilles,  M. 
Douglas,  a  pious  man  who  in  less  than  eight  years  had 
become  quite  a  power  through  his  wealthy  clients  and 
his  great  charity.  His  name  was  loved  and  respected. 
People  spoke  admiringly  of  the  virtues  of  this  upright 
worker  who  led  a  frugal  life;  unlimited  confidence  was 
placed  in  his  honesty,  and  the  activity  of  his  intelligence. 

M.  Martelly  had  availed  himself  of  his  services  when 
investing  some  money.  He  thought  that,  if  Douglas  would 
use  his  influence  on  Marius'  behalf,  the  latter  would  secure 
some  of  the  clergy  to  his  side.  He  called  on  the  notary 
and  asked  for  his  assistance. 

Douglas,  who  appeared  very  much  occupied,  muttered 
an  evasive  reply,  saying  that  he  was  overwhelmed  with 
business  and  quite  unable  to  struggle  against  M.  de  Cazalis. 

"I  did  not  persist,"  said  M.  Martelly  to  Marius,  "I 
thought  I  understood  that  your  adversary  had  been  before- 
hand with  you  there.  Yet  I  am  surprised  that  such  an 
upright  man  as  M.  Douglas  should  have  allowed  his  hands 
to  be  tied.  I  am  afraid,  now,  my  poor  friend,  that  the 
game  is  indeed  up." 


THE  IRON  POT  AGAINST  THE  EARTHliN  EWER.      45 

For  a  whole  month,  Marius  went  about  Marseilles  seeking 
to  win  over  a  few  influential  persons.  He  was  everywhere 
received  coldly,  with  railing  politeness.  M.  Martelly  was 
not  more  fortunate.  The  deputy  had  enlisted  the  sym- 
pathies of  the  whole  nobility  and  clergy.  The  middle- 
classes,  the  shopkeepers,  were  laughing  in  their  sleeves, 
unwilling  to  move  owing  to  their  great  fear  of  compromising 
themselves.  As  for  the  common  people,  they  sang  songs 
about  M.  de  Cazalis  and  his  niece,  this  being  all  they 
could  do  on  Philippe  Cayol's  behalf. 

Days  passed  by,  and  the  preparations  for  the  trial  went 
on  apace.  Marius  was  still  as  much  alone  as  on  the 
first  day,  in  preparing  his  brother's  defence  against  the 
uncle's  hatred  and  the  niece's  obedient  falsehoods.  There 
was  only  Fine,  whose  angry  speeches  merely  won  over 
the  workgirls'  warm  sympathy  to  Philippe's  cause. 

One  morning  Marius  learnt  that  the  act  of  accusation 
against  his  brother  and  the  gardener  Ayasse  had  been 
drawn  up,  the  former  being  accused  of  abduction  and  the 
latter  with  being  an  accomplice  in  the  crime.  Madame 
Cayol  had  been  released  for  want  of  proof. 

Marius  hurried  off  to  embrace  his  mother.  The  poor 
woman  had  suffered  greatly  during  her  incarceration;  her 
feeble  health  was  seriously  compromised.  A  few  days 
after  leaving  the  prison,  she  gently  expired  in  her  son's 
arms,  and  he  sobbing,  vowed  to  avenge  her  death. 

The  funeral  was  the  occasion  for  a  popular  demonstra- 
tion. Philippe's  mother  was  conveyed  to  the  Saint  Charles 
cemetery  followed  by  a  long  procession  of  women  of  the 
people  who  did  not  hesitate  to  revile  M.  de  Caxalis  openly. 
They  were  even  strongly  inclined,  after  the  funeral,  to 
go  and  throw  stones  at  the  windows  of  the  deputy's 
house. 

Alone  in  his  little  lodging  in  the  Rue  Sainte,  Marius, 
when  all  was  over,  felt  himself  deserted  in  the  world,  and 
wept  bitterly.  His  tears  relieved  him,  he  saw  the  road 
he  had  to  follow  traced  out  clearlv  before  him.  The 
misfortunes  which  were  overwhelming  him  increased,  in 
his  breast,  the  love  of  truth  and  hatred  of  injustice.  He 
felt  that  all  his  life  must  henceforth  be  devoted  to  a 


46  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

holy  cause.  He  could  no  longer  act  at  Marseilles,  the 
scene  of  the  drama  having  changed.  Future  events  would 
be  occurring  at  Aix,  where  the  trial  was  to  be  held.  He 
desired  to  be  on  the  spot  in  order  to  follow  the  different 
phases  of  the  affair,  and  take  advantage  of  any  incidents 
which  might  arise.  He  asked  his  employer  for  a  month's 
leave  of  absence,  which  the  latter  immediately  granted. 
The  day  of  his  departure,  he  found  Fine  waiting  at  the 
coach-office. 

"I  am  going  to  Aix  with  you,"  she  said  quietly. 

"But  that  would  be  madness!"  he  exclaimed.  "You 
cannot  afford  to  give  your  time  thus.  Who  will  attend 
to  your  flowers  during  your  absence  ?  " 

"  Oh !  one  of  my  friends,  a  girl  who  lives  on  the  same 
floor  as  I  do  at  the  house  on  the  Place  aux  CEufs.  I 
said  to  myself:  'I  can  be  useful  to  them;'  so  I  put  on 
my  best  dress,  and  here  I  am." 

"I  thank  you  very  much,"  Marius  replied  simply,  in  an 
agitated  voice. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
M.   DE   GIROUSSE  LETS   HIS   TONGUE   WAG. 

ON  arriving  at  Aix,  Marius  went  to  Isnard's,  in  the  Rue 
d'ltalie.  The  draper  had  not  been  molested.  No  doubt, 
such  an  insignificant  prey  was  not  considered  worth 
capturing. 

Fine  went  straight  to  the  gaoler  of  the  prison,  whose 
niece  she  was  by  marriage.  She  had  her  plan,  and 
brought  with  her  an  enormous  bunch  of  roses  which  was 
well  received.  Her  pretty  smiles,  her  caressing  liveliness 
made  her  in  a  couple  of  hours  her  uncle's  spoilt  child. 
He  was  a  widower  with  two  young  daughters  to  whom 
Fine  at  once  played  the  part  of  mother. 

The  trial  was  not  to  take  place  till  early  in  the  fol- 
lowing week. 

Marius,  his  hands  tied,  no  longer  daring  to  attempt 
anything,  awaited  the  proceedings  with  anguish.  At 


M.    DE   GIROUSSE   LETS   HIS   TONGUE    WAG.       47 

times,  he  was  still  mad  enough  to  hope,  and  to  believe 
in  an  acquittal.  Walking  one  evening  on  the  Cours,  he 
met  M.  de  Girousse,  who  had  come  from  Lambesc  to 
be  present  at  the  affair.  The  old  nobleman  took  his  arm, 
and,  without  saying  a  word,  led  him  to  his  house. 

"There,"  said  he,  after  closing  the  door  of  a  large 
drawing-room,  "  now  we  are  alone,  my  friend.  I  can  come 
down  from  my  pedestal  as  much  as  I  please." 

Marius  smiled  at  the  count's  rough  and  eccentric  ways. 

"Well,"  the  latter  went  on,  "you  don't  ask  me  to  help 
you,  to  defend  you  against  Cazalis  ?  Come,  you're  sensible. 
You  understand  that  I  can  do  nothing  against  that  vain 
and  obstinate  nobility  to  which  I  belong.  Ah!  your 
brother  has  done  a  fine  thing !  " 

M.  de  Girousse  was  striding  about  the  drawing-room.  He 
pulled  himself  up  abruptly  before  Marius,  and  said  to  him 
in  a  loud  voice : 

"  Listen  well  to  what  I  am  about  to  tell  you.  There 
are  some  fifty  of  us  in  this  good  town,  all  old  fellows 
like  myself,  living  by  ourselves,  buried  in  a  past  for  ever 
dead.  We  profess  to  be  the  cream  of  the  cream  of  Pro- 
vence, and  there  we  stick,  doing  nothing  but  twirling  our 
thumbs.  For,  see  you!  we  are  noblemen,  chivalrous 
hearts,  awaiting  devoutly  the  return  of  their  legitimate 
princes.  And,  the  deuce  take  it!  we  shall  wait  a  long  time, 
so  long  that  we  shall  all  have  died  of  solitude  and  idleness, 
before  the  least  legitimate  prince  shows  himself.  If  we 
were  gifted  with  good  eyes  we  should  observe  the  march  of 
events.  We  cry  out  to  facts:  'You  shall  go  no  farther!'  and 
yet  the  facts  pass  quietly  over  our  bodies  and  crush  us. 

"  It  maddens  me  to  see  how  we  are  shut  up  in  an 
obstinacy  as  ridiculous  as  it  is  heroic.  To  think  that  we 
are  most  of  us  wealthy,  that  we  might  ncarlv  all  become 
intelligent  manufacturers,  working  for  the  prosperity  of  the 
country,  and  that  we  prefer  to  grow  mouldy  in  the  recesses 
of  our  mansions,  like  the  rubbish  of  a  bygone  age !  " 

He  stopped  to  take  breath,  and  then  went  on  still  more 
energetically : 

"  And  we  take  a  pride  in  our  empty  existence.  We 
don't  work  because  we  disdain  labour.  We  have  a  holv 


48  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

horror  of  the  people  because  their  hands  are  soiled.  Ah  ! 
your  brother  dared  to  touch  one  of  our  daughters !  We'll 
show  him  whether  his  blood  is  the  same  as  ours.  We 
shall  league  ourselves  together  and  give  the  rascallions  a 
lesson,  we'll  cure  them  of  seeking  to  find  favour  in  our 
children's  eyes.  Some  powerful  ecclesiastics  will  second 
us;  they  are  fatally  bound  to  our  cause.  It  will  be  a 
splendid  campaign  for  our  vanity." 

After  a  pause,  M.  de  Girousse  resumed  sarcastically: 
"  Our  vanity — it  has  at  times  received  some  nasty 
knocks.  A  few  years  prior  to  my  birth,  a  terrible  tragedy 
was  enacted  in  the  mansion  adjoining  this.  M.  d'Entre- 
casteaux,  the  president  of  the  parliament,  murdered  his 
wife  in  her  bed;  he  cut  her  throat  with  a  razor,  which 
was  not  found  till  twenty-five  days  afterwards  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden.  The  victim's  jewels  were  discovered 
down  the  well,  where  the  murderer  had  thrown  them  to 
lead  the  authorities  to  believe  that  robbery  was  the  reason 
of  the  murder.  President  d'Entrecasteaux  took  to  flight 
and  went,  I  believe,  to  Portugal,  where  he  died  in  poverty. 
The  parliament  condemned  him,  in  default,  to  be  broken 
alive  on  the  wheel. 

"So  you  see  we  have  also  our  scoundrels,  and  that  the 
lower  classes  have  nothing  to  envy  us.  That  cowardly 
crime,  committed  by  one  of  ourselves,  dealt  a  sad  blow 
in  those  days  to  our  authority.  A  novelist  might  write 
a  heart-rending  book  with  the  materials  furnished  by  this 
doleful  and  tragic  story." 

Resuming  his  walk,  M.  de  Girousse  continued: 
"And    we   also    know    how    to    humble  ourselves.     For 
instance,  when  Fouche,  the  regicide,  then  Duke  of  Otranto, 
was,    somewhere   about    1810,    exiled   for  a  short  time  to 
our  town,  all  the  nobles  dragged  themselves  before  him. 

"  I  remember  an  anecdote  which  will  show  you  to  what 
abject  servility  we  lowered  ourselves.  On  New  Year's 
Day  1811,  there  was  a  long  file  of  persons  waiting  to  pay 
their  respects  to  the  ex-member  of  the  Convention.  In 
the  reception-room  there  was  some  talk  of  the  severity 
of  the  weather,  and  one  of  the  callers  was  expressing  his 
fears  as  to  the  fate  of  the  olive-trees.  '  What  do  we  care 


M.    DE   GIROUSSE   LETS     HIS   TONGUE   WAG.      49 

for  the  olive-trees  ! '  exclaimed  one  of  the  noble  personages, 
'providing  his  Grace  the  Duke  keeps  well!' 

"  That's  how  we  are  nowadays,  my  friend,  humble  with 
the  mighty,  haughty  witli  the  weak.  There  arc  no  doubt 
some  exceptions,  but  they  are  rare.  You  must  see, 
therefore,  that  your  brother  will  be  convicted.  Our  pride, 
which  bent  the  knee  before  a  Fouche,  cannot  do  so  before 
a  Cayol.  That's  logical.  Good-night!  " 

And  the  count  abruptly  dismissed  Marius.  His  own 
words  had  exasperated  him,  and  he  feared  that  Uis  anger 
might  end  by  making  him  say  something  foolish. 

The  next  day,  the  young  man  met  him  again  and 
M.  de  Girousse  took  him  home  as  on  the  previous  even- 
ing. He  held  in  his  hand  a  newspaper  containing  a  list 
of  the  jury  who  were  to  decide  Philippe's  case  and  struck 
the  paper  forcibly  with  his  finger,  exclaiming: 

"Those  are  the  men  who  will  condemn  your  brother! 
Shall  I  tell  you  some  stories  about  them  ?  They  are 
curious  and  instructive." 

M.  de  Girousse  seated  himself,  and  glanced  through  the 
paper,  shrugging  his  shoulders  as  he  did  so. 

"It's  a  packed  jury,"  he  said  at  last,  "an  assembly  of 
rich  men  who  have  every  interest  to  serve  the  cause  of  M.  dc 
Cazalis.  They  arc  all  more  or  less  mixed  up  with  the  clergy 
or  on  intimate  terms  with  the  nobility.  They  are  almost 
all  friends  of  men  who  spend  their  mornings  in  the 
churches  and  cheat  their  customers  the  rest  of  the  day." 

Then  he  named  them  one  by  one,  and  spoke  of  the 
set  thev  frequented  with  increasing  indignation. 

"Humbert,"  he  said,  "is  the  brother  of  a  Marseilles' 
merchant,  a  dealer  in  oil,  an  honest  man  who  holds  his 
head  erect  and  whom  every  poor  devil  salutes.  Twenty 
years  ago  their  father  was  but  a  struggling  clerk.  To-dav 
his  sons  are  millionaires,  thanks  to  his  skilful  speculations. 
One  year  he  sold  a  large  quantity  of  oil  beforehand,  at 
the  market  rate.  A  few  weeks  afterwards  the  cold  destroyed 
the  olive-trees,  the  crop  was  lost,  and  he  was  a  ruined 
man  if  he  did  not  deceive  his  customers.  But  he  preferred 
deceit  to  poverty. 

"  Whilst     his     brother-merchants     were     delivering     the 

4 


50  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

genuine  article  at  a  loss,  our  man  bought  up  all  the  spoilt 
and  rancid  oils  he  could  find,  and  then  made  the  promised 
deliveries.  His  customers  complained  and  grew  angry, 
but  the  speculator  coolly  replied  that  he  was  strictly  keeping 
to  his  agreements  and  that  they  could  claim  nothing 
further  of  him.  And  the  trick  was  played.  All  Marseilles, 
which  knows  the  story,  is  never  tired  of  taking  its  hat  off 
to  this  skilful  man. 

"  Gautier  is  another  Marseilles  merchant.  He  has  a 
nephew,  Paul  Bertrand,  who  swindled  in  style.  This 
Bertrand  was  in  partnership  with  a  person  named  Aubert, 
living  in  New  York,  who  used  to  send  him  consignments 
of  goods  to  be  disposed  of  in  Marseilles.  They  shared 
the  profits.  Our  man  made  immense  sums  in  this  busi- 
ness, the  more  especially  as  he  was  careful  to  cheat  his 
partner  at  each  division  of  profits. 

"  One  day,  a  crisis  broke  out  and  losses  were  incurred. 
Bertrand  continued  to  receive  the  goods  which  the  ships 
still  brought,  but  he  refused  to  honour  the  drafts  Aubert 
drew  upon  him,  saying  that  business  was  bad  and  he  was 
in  difficulties.  The  returned  bills  come  back  again  with 
enormous  expenses  attached  to  them.  Then  Bertrand 
calmly  says  that  he  won't  pay,  that  he  is  not  obliged  to 
be  Aubert's  partner  for  ever,  and  that  he  owes  nothing. 
There's  a  fresh  return  of  the  bills,  fresh  expenses  incurred, 
and  the  New  York  merchant,  surprised  and  indignant,  has 
to  take  them  up  at  great  loss.  The  latter,  who  had  to 
plead  through  a  power  of  attorney,  lost  the  action  for 
damages  he  brought  against  Bertrand ;  I  was  assured  that 
two  thirds  of  his  fortune,  twelve  hundred  thousand  francs, 
were  swallowed  up  in  this  catastrophe. 

"  Bertrand  remains  the  most  honest  man  in  the  world ; 
he  is  received  everywhere  and  belongs  to  several  congrega- 
tions, he  is  envied  and  honoured. 

"  Dutailly  is  a  dealer  in  corn.  Some  time  ago,  one  of 
his  sons-in-law,  George  Fouque,  met  with  a  misadventure 
which  caused  a  scandal  that  his  friends  hastened  to  hush 
up.  Fouque  always  arranged  matters  so  that  it  should 
appear  that  the  cargoes  the  ships  brought  him  had  suffered 
in  transport.  The  insurance  offices  paid  on  the  report  of 


M.    DE   GIROUSSE   LETS   HIS   TONGUE   WAG.       51 

an  expert.  But  tired  of  continually  paying,  the  offices  ap- 
pointed as  expert  an  honest  baker,  who  soon  received  a 
visit  from  Fouque.  The  latter,  whilst  conversing  on 
indifferent  matters,  slipped  a  few  gold  pieces  into  his  hand. 
The  baker  dropped  the  coins  and  kicked  them  into  the 
middle  of  the  room.  There  were  several  persons  present, 
yet  Fouque's  reputation  has  in  no  way  suffered. 

"Delorme  lives  in  a  town  not  far  from  Marseilles.  He 
retired  from  business  long  ago.  Listen  to  the  disgraceful 
action  his  cousin  Mille  was  guilty  of.  Thirty  years  back, 
Mille's  mother  kept  a  draper's  shop.  When  the  old  lady 
retired,  she  sold  her  stock  and  goodwill  to  one  of  her 
assistants,  an  active  and  intelligent  young  fellow  whom 
she  almost  looked  upon  as  a  son.  This  person,  whose 
name  was  Michel,  quickly  discharged  the  debt  and  so 
increased  his  business  that  he  felt  compelled  to  take  a 
partner.  He  chose  a  young  fellow  of  Marseilles  named 
Jean  Martin,  who  had  a  little  money,  and  who  appeared 
to  be  an  honest,  hard-working  man.  It  was  an  assured 
fortune  that  Michel  offered  to  his  partner. 

"At  first,  everything  went  well.  The  profits  increased 
annually,  and  each  partner  put  by  a  good  round  sum  at 
the  end  of  the  year.  But  Jean  Martin,  who  was  eager 
for  gain  and  dreamed  of  a  rapid  fortune,  ended  by 
reflecting  that  he  would  make  twice  as  much  if  he  were 
alone.  The  matter  was  a  difficult  one:  Michel  was  in  fact 
his  benefactor,  and  moreover  he  had  a  friend  in  the 
landlord  of  the  house,  Madame  Mille's  son.  If  the  latter 
were  honest,  Jean  Martin  would  be  unable  to  put  his 
nefarious  scheme  into  execution.  He  went  to  see  him, 
and  found  him  to  be  the  scoundrel  he  required.  He 
proposed  to  him  to  give  him  a  new  lease,  in  consideration 
of  a  large  sum  of  money;  he  doubled  and  even  trebled 
the  amount.  Mille,  who  is  both  a  rogue  and  a  miser, 
sold  himself  for  as  much  as  possible.  The  bargain  was 
struck.  Then  Jean  Martin  played  the  hypocrite  with  Michel : 
he  said  he  desired  to  cancel  the  partnership  deed  and  to 
start  a  business  elsewhere  ;  he  even  named  a  place  he  had 
taken.  Michel,  surprised  but  not  suspecting  the  infamous 
trick  of  which  he  was  to  be  the  victim,  said  he 


52  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

could  retire  if  he  liked,  and  the  deed  was  cancelled. 
"  Shortly  afterwards  Michel's  lease  expired,  and  Jean 
Martin,  armed  with  the  new  lease,  triumphantly  turned  his 
ex-partner  out.  Michel,  nearly  driven  mad  by  such  a 
piece  of  treachery,  opened  a  business  elsewhere ;  but  having 
no  customers,  he  lost  the  money  so  painfully  amassed 
during  thirty  years  of  labour.  He  died  paralysed,  suffering 
atrociously,  shouting  that  Mille  and  Martin  were  scoundrels 
and  traitors,  and  calling  on  his  sons  to  avenge  him.  To-day, 
his  sons  are  toiling  and  moiling  to  keep  body  and  soul 
together.  Mille  is  connected  by  marriage  with  the  best 
families  in  the  town,  his  children  are  wealthy,  and  living  hand- 
somely in  an  odour  of  piety,  and  possessing  the  esteem  of  all. 

"  There's  Faivre.  His  mother  was  married  twice,  her 
second  husband  being  a  man  named  Chabran,  a  ship- 
owner and  bill  discounter.  Pretending  he  had  made 
some  unfortunate  speculations,  Chabran  wrote  one  day 
to  his  numerous  creditors  to  the  effect  that  he  was  obliged 
to  suspend  payment.  Some  of  them  consented  to  give 
him  time,  but  the  majority  decided  to  proceed  against 
him.  So  Chabran  engages  two  young  fellows  as  clerks, 
and  spends  a  week  in  coaching  them  up  in  the  parts  he 
wishes  them  to  play ;  then,  accompanied  by  these  youngsters, 
now  thoroughly  trained,  he  calls  on  all  his  creditors,  one 
after  the  other,  bewailing  his  sad  position,  and  imploring 
their  pity  for  his  two  starving  sons  who  haven't  a  coat 
to  their  backs.  The  trick  succeeds  admirably  well.  All 
the  creditors  forego  their  claims. 

"  The  next  day  Chabran  was  at  the  Bourse,  more  sedate 
and  more  insolent  than  ever.  A  broker,  who  had  not 
heard  of  the  affair,  asked  him  to  discount  three  bills 
accepted,  as  it  so  happened,  by  three  of  the  very  merchants 
who  had  treated  him  so  generously  the  day  before.  'I 
can  have  nothing  to  do  with  those  kind  of  people,'  he 
replied,  haughtily.  At  the  present  time,  Chabran  has 
almost  retired  from  business.  He  lives  in  a  villa  where 
he  gives  sumptuous  dinners  on  Sundays. 

"  As  for  Gerominot,  the  president  of  the  club  where  he 
spends  his  evenings  is  a  usurer  of  the  very  worst  description. 
It  is  said  that  he  has  earned  at  the  trade  a  snug  little 


M.    DE   GIROUSSE   LETS   HIS   TONGUE   WAG.       53 

million,  which  enabled  him  to  marry  his  daughter  to  one 
of  the  princes  of  finance.  His  name  is  Pertigny.  But 
since  his  last  failure,  which  left  him  a  capital  of  three 
hundred  thousand  francs  sticking  to  his  fingers,  he  goes 
by  the  name  of  Felix.  This  skilful  rascal  failed  a  first 
time  forty  years  ago,  and  that  enabled  him  to  purchase 
a  house.  His  creditors  received  fifteen  per  cent.  Ten 
years  later,  a  second  failure  procured  him  a  little  place 
in  the  country.  That  time  his  creditors  received  ten  per 
cent.  Scarcely  fifteen  years  ago  he  failed  a  third  time, 
on  that  occasion  for  three  hundred  thousand  francs,  and 
offered  a  composition  of  five  per  cent.  The  creditors 
having  declined  to  accept  it,  he  proved  to  them  that  all 
the  property  was  really  his  wife's,  and  he  never  paid  them 
a  centime." 

Marius,  thoroughly  sickened,  made  a  movement  of  disgust, 
;is  though  to  stop  these  abominable  stories. 

"  You  don't  believe  me,  perhaps,"  said  the  terrible  count. 
"  You're  a  simpleton,  my  friend.  I've  not  yet  done,  and 
you  must  hear  me  to  the  end." 

M.  de  Girousse  railed  in  a  dreadful  manner.  His  loud 
hissing  words  fell  like  the  lash  of  a  whip  upon  the  persons 
whose  disreputable  histories  he  was  relating.  He  named 
the  jurymen  one  after  another,  he  searched  their  lives 
and  the  lives  of  their  relations,  and  laid  bare  all  the 
scandals  and  meannesses  connected  with  them.  There 
was  scarcely  one  he  spared.  Then  he  placed  himself 
vehemently  before  Marius,  and  continued  bitterly: 

"Were  you  so  simple  as  to  believe  that  all  these  mil- 
lionaires, all  these  upstarts,  all  these  powerful  persons  who 
domineer  over  you  and  crush  you  to-dav,  were  little  saints, 
worthy  individuals,  whose  lives  were  spotless?  At  Mar- 
seilles especially,  these  men  displav  their  vanity  and 
insolence;  they  have  become  devotees  and  hypocrites; 
they  have  deceived  even  the  worthy  people  who  salute 
and  esteem  them.  In  a  word,  they  form  an  aristocracy 
of  their  own;  their  past  is  forgotten;  their  wealth  and 
newly-acquired  probity  are  alone  seen. 

"  Well  !  I'll  unmask  them.  Listen :  This  one  made 
his  fortune  by  betraying  his  friend;  that  other,  by  traf- 


54  THE   MYSTERIES   OF    MARSEILLES. 

ficking  in  human  flesh ;  that  other,  in  selling  his  wife 
and  daughter ;  that  other,  in  speculating  on  the  misery 
of  his  creditors;  that  other,  in  buying  back  for  a  song 
the  shares  of  a  company  of  which  he  was  manager,  and 
which  he  had  brought  into  disrepute ;  that  other,  by 
scuttling  a  ship  loaded  with  stones  instead  of  merchandise, 
and  securing  a  handsome  sum  from  the  underwriters;  that 
other,  verbally  a  partner,  by  refusing  to  pay  his  share  of 
the  losses  in  an  unfortunate  speculation;  that  other,  by 
concealing  his  assets,  failing  two  or  three  times,  and  ulti- 
mately living  like  an  honest  man ;  that  other,  by  selling 
as  wine  a  decoction  of  logwood  or  bullock's  blood;  that 
other,  by  buying  up  all  the  corn  at  a  time  of  scarcity ; 
that  other,  by  defrauding  the  customs  on  a  large  scale, 
attempting  to  corrupt  the  officers  and  robbing  to  his 
heart's  content;  that  other,  by  forging  the  signatures  of 
friends  or  relations  to  bills  which  they  do  not  dare  to 
dishonour  at  maturity,  but  prefer  to  pay  rather  than 
disgrace  the  forger  ;  that  other,  by  setting  fire  to  his  fac- 
tory or  ships  previously  insured  far  above  their  value ; 
that  other,  by  tearing  up  and  burning  his  acceptances 
snatched  from  his  creditor's  hand  the  day  theyf  ell  due  ;  that 
other,  by  speculating  at  the  Bourse  without  any  intention  of 
paying  his  differences,  which  does  not  prevent  him  enriching 
himself  a  week  afterwards  at  the  expense  of  some  dupe — 

M.  de  Girousse  stopped  for  want  of  breath.  He  remained 
silent  for  some  time,  giving  his  anger  an  opportunity  of 
dying  out.  Then  he  again  opened  his  lips,  and  smiled 
less  bitterly. 

"  I  am  a  bit  of  a  misanthrope, "  he  said  gently,  to 
Marius,  who  had  listened  to  him  with  pain  and  surprise 
"  I  see  the  dark  side  of  everything.  The  fact  is,  the  idleness 
to  which  my  title  condemns  me  has  enabled  me  to  study 
the  ignominies  of  this  country.  But  I  must  tell  you  there 
are  some  honest  folk  among  us.  Unfortunately  they  either 
dread  or  disdain  the  rascals." 

Marius  took  his  leave  of  M.  de  Girousse,  quite  upset 
by  the  ardent  words  he  had  been  listening  to.  He  fore- 
saw that  his  brother  would  be  unmercifully  condemned. 

The  trial  was  to  begin  on  the  morrow. 


A   SCANDALOUS    TRIA.L.  55 

CHAPTER  X. 
A  SCANDALOUS   TRIAL. 

ALL  Aix  was  in  a  flutter.  Scandal  acquires  additional 
force  in  quiet  little  towns,  where  the  curiosity  of  the  gos- 
sips has  not  frequently  some  fresh  material  to  feed  upon. 
All  the  talk  was  of  Philippe  and  Blanche;  the  lovers' 
adventures  were  related  at  every  street  corner;  it  was 
openly  said  that  the  accused  was  condemned  beforehand, 
that  M.  de  Ca/alis  had,  either  personally  or  through  his 
friends,  secured  a  promise  of  conviction  from  each  juryman. 

The  Aix  clergy  gave  the  deputy  its  assistance,  though  in 
a  rather  lukewarm  manner,  it  is  true.  It  comprised  in 
those  days  some  men  who  were  unwilling  to  be  parties 
to  an  act  of  injustice.  A  few  priests,  however,  submitted 
to  the  influence  of  the  religious  club  at  Marseilles,  of 
which  Abbe  Donadei  was,  so  to  say,  the  leader.  These 
attempted  in  various  ways  to  tie  the  hands  of  the  magistracy. 
They  succeeded  especially  in  persuading  the  jurymen  of 
the  righteousness  of  M.  de  Ca/alis'  cause. 

The  nobles  rendered  them  powerful  aid  in  their  task. 
They  considered  that  their  honour  demanded  they 
should  crush  Philippe  Cayol.  They  regarded  him  as 
a  personal  enemy  who,  having  dared  to  attack  the  dignity 
of  one  of  themselves,  had  by  so  doing  insulted  the  whole 
body  of  them.  To  see  these  counts  and  marquises  bestir 
themselves,  give  vent  to  their  anger,  and  band  themselves 
together,  one  might  have  fancied  that  some  hostile  army 
was  at  the  gates  of  the  town.  Yet  it  was,  after  all,  simplv 
a  question  of  securing  the  conviction  of  a  poor  wretch 
guilty  of  love  and  ambition. 

Philippe,  however,  had  some  friends  and  defenders. 
All  the  lower  classes  declared  themselves  freely  for  him. 
They  blamed  his  conduct  and  reproved  the  means  he  had 
employed,  saying  that  he  would  have  done  better  to  have 
loved  and  married  a  young  woman  in  his  own  class  of 
life;  but,  whilst  censuring  his  behaviour,  thev  loudlv  took 
his  part  against  the  deputy's  pride  and  hatred. 


56  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

It  was  known  throughout  the  town  that  Blanche,  when 
before  the  examining  magistrate,  had  denied  her  love; 
and  the  daughters  of  the  people,  true  Prover^al  women, 
enthusiastic  and  courageous,  spoke  of  her  with  insulting 
contempt.  They  called  her  "renegade,"  ascribed  the 
most  shameful  motives  to  her  conduct,  and  did  not  hesitate 
to  cry  their  opinions  from  the  house-tops  in  the  expressive 
language  of  the  gutter. 

All  this  clamour  compromised  Philippe's  cause  consider- 
ably. The  whole  town  was  in  the  secret  of  the  drama 
about  to  be  performed.  Those  whose  interest  it  was  to 
secure  the  prisoner's  conviction,  being  certain  of  succeeding 
did  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  hide  their  proceedings; 
those  who  would  have  liked  to  have  saved  him,  conscious 
of  their  weakness  and  unarmed  condition,  relieved  them- 
selves by  bawling,  delighted  to  annoy  those  powerful  persons 
whom  they  had  no  hope  of  mastering. 

M.  de  Cazalis  had  shamelessly  dragged  his  niece  with 
him  to  Aix.  During  the  first  days  he  took  a  sort  of  proud 
delight  in  walking  her  up  and  down  the  Cours.  It  was 
his  way  of  protesting  against  the  idea  of  dishonour  with 
which  the  crowd  coupled  the  young  girl's  flight ;  he  seemed 
to  be  proclaiming  to  the  world  at  large :  "  You  see  that 
a  lout  cannot  damage  the  honour  of  a  Cazalis.  My  niece 
still  looks  down  upon  you  from  the  height  of  her  rank 
and  fortune." 

But  he  was  unable  to  continue  these  walks  long.  His 
behaviour  angered  the  mob,  who  insulted  Blanche  and 
was  on  the  point  of  stoning  her  and  her  uncle.  The 
women  especially  were  furious ;  they  did  not  perceive  that 
it  was  not  the  niece's  fault  and  that  she  was  simply  sub- 
mitting to  an  iron  will.  She  trembled  before  the  popular 
wrath,  and  lowered  her  eyes  in  order  not  to  see  those 
women  gazing  at  her  with  such  fiery  glances.  She  could 
feel  their  contemptuous  gesticulations  behind  her,  hear 
horrible  words  she  failed  ~to  understand,  and  her  legs  were 
giving  way  beneath  her  as  she  clung  to  her  uncle's  arm 
in  order  not  to  fall.  She  returned  home  one  day,  pale  and 
trembling,  and  declared  she  would  not  go  out  again.  The 
poor  child  was  going  to  become  a  mother. 


A   SCANDALOUS   TRIAL.  57 

At  last  the  day  of  the  trial  arrived. 

The  doors  of  the  court-house  were  besieged  from  early 
morning,  the  Place  des  Precheurs  was  filled  with  a  noisy 
gesticulating  crowd,  clamouring  as  to  the  probable  result 
of  the  trial,  and  discussing  Philippe's  guilt  and  M.  de 
Cazalis'  and  Blanche's  attitude. 

The  court-room  slowly  filled.  Extra  rows  of  seats  had 
been  added  for  the  persons  provided  with  tickets ;  there 
were  so  many  of  them  that  the  majority  had  to  remain 
standing.  There  were  the  flower  of  the  nobility,  the 
leading  barristers,  the  high  functionaries,  in  fact  all  the 
notabilities  of  Aix.  No  prisoner  had  ever  before  had  such 
an  audience. 

When  the  doors  were  opened  for  the  admission  of  the 
general  public,  only  a  few  persons  were  able  to  find  room. 
The  remainder  were  compelled  to  wait  in  the  passages, 
and  even  on  the  steps  of  the  building.  And  now  and 
again  the  crowd  indulged  in  groaning  and  hooting,  and 
the  noise  penetrated  and  swelled  in  the  court-room,  and 
disturbed  its  quiet  majesty. 

The  ladies  had  taken  possession  of  the  gallery,  and 
there  formed  a  compact  mass  of  smiling  and  anxious 
faces.  Those  in  the  front  row  fanned  themselves,  or  leant 
forward  with  their  gloved  hands  resting  on  the  red  velvet 
covering  the  rail  of  the  balustrade.  Further  back,  in  the 
shadow,  rose  serried  tiers  of  pink  faces,  their  bodies 
scarcely  discernible  amid  the  mass  of  laces,  ribbons,  and 
studs.  And  silvery  laughter,  whispered  words,  shrill  little 
cries,  fell  from  this  rosy,  gossiping  crowd.  The  ladies 
fancied  themselves  at  a  theatre. 

When  Philippe  Cavol  WHS  brought  in,  there  ensued  a 
great  silence.  The  ladies  devoured  him  with  their  eyes; 
some  even  examined  him  from  top  to  toe  witli  their 
opera-glasses.  The  big  fellow  with  his  energetic  features 
was  quite  a  success.  The  women,  having  come  to  judge 
of  Blanche's  taste,  no  doubt  considered  the  young  person 
less  to  blame,  when  thev  beheld  her  lover's  lofty  stature 
and  clear  penetrating  eves. 

Philippe's  attitude  was  calm  and  dignified.  He  was 
dressed  entirely  in  black,  and  seemed  to  ignore  the  pre- 


58  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

sence  of  the  two  gendarmes  beside  him,  rising  up  and 
reseating  himself  with  all  the  grace  of  a  man  of  the  world. 
Now  and  again,  he  calmly  surveyed  the  crowd,  without 
the  least  effrontery.  He  gazed  several  times  up  at  the 
gallery;  and  on  each  occasion  he  smiled  in  spite  of  himself, 
so  great  was  his  wish  to  love  and  please  even  there. 

The  indictment  was  read  and  was  overwhelming  for  the 
accused.  In  the  depositions  of  M.  de  Cazalis  and  his  niece 
the  incidents  were  distorted  in  a  skilful  and  terrible  man- 
ner. It  was  stated  that  Philippe  had  perverted  Blanche's 
mind  by  the  aid  of  bad  books:  the  truth  being  that  he 
had  lent  her  two  utterly  puerile  works  by  Madame  de 
Genlis.  The  indictment  further  said  on  the  strength  of 
Blanche's  version  of  the  story,  that  she  had  been  carried 
away  by  force,  that  she  had  clung  to  an  almond-tree, 
and  that  during  the  flight  the  abductor  had  resorted  to 
violence  to  oblige  his  victim  to  follow  him.  The  gravest 
allegation  was  founded  on  one  of  Blanche's  depositions : 
she  pretended  she  had  never  written  Philippe  any 
letters  and  that  the  two  produced  by  him  were  ante- 
dated ones  which  he  had  made  her  write  at  Lambesc, 
by  way  of  precaution. 

When  the  reading  of  the  indictment  was  finished,  the 
place  became  filled  with  the  noisy  murmur  of  innu- 
merable private  conversations.  Each  spectator,  before 
coming  to  the  court-house,  had  his  own  version,  and  now 
was  discussing  in  a  low  voice  the  official  one.  Outside,  the 
mob  was  howling.  The  presiding  judge  threatened  to  have 
the  hall  cleared,  and  silence  was  gradually  restored. 

Philippe's  examination  was  then  proceeded  with.  When 
the  presiding  judge  had  asked  the  usual  preliminary  ques- 
tions and  had  repeated  to  him  the  particulars  of  the 
indictment  drawn  up  against  him,  the  young  man,  without 
refuting  them,  exclaimed  in  a  clear  voice: 

"  I  am  accused  of  having  been  carried  off  by  a  young 
girl!" 

These  words  caused  a  general  laugh.  The  ladies  hid 
themselves  behind  their  fans  to  give  full  vent  to  their 
feelings.  Philippe's  words,  foolish  and  absurd  as  they 
seemed,  contained  nevertheless  a  great  deal  of  truth. 


A   SCANDALOUS   TRIAL.  59 

The  presiding  judge  sensibly  observed  that  no  one  had 
ever  known  a  man  of  thirty  to  be  carried  off  by  a  girl 
of  sixteen,  to  which  Philippe  quietly  replied : 

"  Neither  has  anyone  ever  seen  a  girl  of  sixteen 
wandering  along  the  highways,  passing  through  towns, 
meeting  hundreds  of  people,  without  appealing  to  the  first 
person  she  encountered  to  deliver  her  from  her  abductor, 
her  gaoler." 

And  he  endeavoured  to  show  the  material  impossibility  of 
the  acts  of  violence  and  intimidation  of  which  he  was 
accused.  At  every  hour  of  the  day,  Blanche  had  been 
free  to  leave  him,  to  procure  aid  and  succour;  if  she  had 
accompanied  him,  it  was  because  she  loved  him  and  had 
consented  to  the  flight.  In  addition  to  this,  Philippe 
expressed  the  greatest  affection  for  the  young  girl,  and 
the  greatest  deference  for  M.  de  Cazalis.  He  admitted 
his  errors,  and  merely  asked  not  to  be  branded  as  an 
infamous  abductor. 

The  trial  was  adjourned  to  the  morrow  for  the  hearing 
of  the  witnesses.  That  night  the  town  was  in  an  uproar; 
the  ladies  spoke  of  Philippe  with  affected  indignation, 
serious  men  referred  to  him  more  or  less  severely,  while 
the  lower  classes  energetically  took  his  part. 

On  the  morrow,  the  crowd  outside  the  court-house 
was,  if  anything,  larger  and  noisier  than  on  the  previous 
day.  The  witnesses  were  nearly  all  for  the  prosecution. 
M.  de  Girousse  had  not  been  summoned ;  his  rough 
frankness  was  dreaded ;  and,  moreover,  he  should  rather 
have  been  arrested  as  an  accomplice.  Marius  had  begged 
him  not  to  compromise  himself  in  the  affair ;  he  also 
feared  the  old  count's  violence,  which  might  spoil  everything. 

There  was  scarcely  more  than  the  evidence  of  one 
witness  in  Philippe's  favour,  that  of  the  inn-keeper  at 
Lambesc,  who  declared  that  Blanche  was  accompanying 
her  lover  of  her  own  free  will. 

This  evidence  was,  however,  effaced,  so  to  say,  by  the 
depositions  of  the  other  witnesses.  Marguerite,  the  milk- 
woman,  stammered  and  said  she  no  longer  remembered 
having  brought  the  accused  any  letters  from  Mademoiselle 
de  Cazalis.  It  was  thus  that  each  witness  served  the 


60  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

deputy's  interest,  either  through  fear,  or  stupidity  and  loss 
of  memory. 

The  pleadings  commenced  and  went  into  the  third  day. 

Philippe's  counsel  defended  him  with  dignified  simplicity. 
He  did  not  seek  to  excuse  what  was  reprehensible  in  his 
conduct;  he  described  him  as  being  an  ardent,  ambitious 
man  led  astray  by  dreams  of  love  and  wealth.  But  at  the 
same  time,  he  showed  that  the  accused  could  not  be  con- 
victed of  abduction,  and  that  the  affair  itself  negatived  all 
idea  of  violence  and  intimidation. 

The  crown  attorney's  speech  was  most  vindictive.  It 
was  expected  that  it  would  have  been  milder,  and  his  ener- 
getic accusations  produced  a  disastrous  effect. 

The  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  of  guilty,  and  Philippe 
Cayol  was  condemned  to  five  years'  imprisonment  and  to 
be  exhibited  in  the  pillory  on  one  of  the  public  squares 
of  Marseilles. 

The  gardener  Ayasse  was  only  condemned  to  a  few 
months'  imprisonment. 

The  sentences  were  received  with  murmurs  in  the  court- 
room, whilst  outside  the  crowd  howled  with  rage. 


CHAPTER  XL 

HOW    BLANCHE  AND   FINE   FIND   THEMSELVES   FACE 
TO   FACE. 

WHEN  sentence  was  passed  on  Philippe,  Blanche  was 
present,  hidden  at  the  back  of  the  gallery. 

She  was  there  by  order  of  her  uncle,  who  had  wished 
to  completely  stamp  out  her  affection,  by  showing  her  her 
lover  standing  between  two  gendarmes,  like  a  thief.  An 
elderly  lady  relative  had  consented  to  accompany  her  to 
this  edifying  scene. 

As  the  two  ladies  were  awaiting  their  carriage  on  the 
steps  of  the  court-house,  the  crowd,  pushing  forward,  sud- 
denly separated  them.  Blanche,  who  was  dragged  to  the 
centre  of  the  Place  des  Precheurs,  was  recognised  by  the 
market-women,  who  began  hooting  and  insulting  her. 


BLANCHE   AND   FINE   FACE   TO   FACE.  6  I 

"That's  her,  that's  her!"  shouted  the  women,  "the 
Renegade,  the  Renegade !  " 

The  poor  bewildered  child,  not  knowing  where  to  fly 
to,  was  half  dead  with  shame  and  fright,  when  a  young 
girl  energetically  divided  the  howling  mob  that  surrounded 
her  and  placed  herself  at  her  side. 

It  was  Fine. 

The  flower-girl  had  also  been  to  hear  sentence  passed 
on  Philippe.  For  the  space  of  nearly  three  hours  she 
had  passed  through  all  the  anguish  of  hope  and  fear;  the 
crown  attorney's  speech  had  been  crushing,  and  on  hearing 
the  judgment  she  had  begun  to  weep. 

She  had  just  quitted  the  court-house,  irritated  and  in 
a  terrible  state  of  excitement,  when  the  hooting  of  the 
market-women  reached  her.  She  understood  that  Blanche 
was  there  and  that  she  would  be  able  to  avenge  herself 
by  abusing  her;  she  dashed  forward  with  clenched  fists, 
and  an  insult  ready  on  her  lip.  According  to  her,  the 
young  girl  was  the  great  culprit:  she  had  lied,  she  had 
been  guilty  of  perjury  and  cowardice.  At  this  thought 
all  Fine's  plebeian  blood  rushed  to  her  face  and  urged 
her  on  to  shout  and  strike. 

She  rushed  forward  and  separated  the  crowd  to  take 
her  share  of  vengeance. 

But,  when  she  was  face  to  face  with  Blanche,  when 
she  saw  her  doubled  in  two  by  fright,  she  had  pity  for 
the  weak  and  trembling  child.  She  found  her  so  small, 
so  captivating,  so  delicately  fragile,  that  a  generous  thought 
of  pardon  came  from  her  heart.  She  violent! v  pushed 
back  the  women  who  were  shaking  their  fists  at  the  young 
lady,  and,  stretching  herself  to  her  full  height,  exclaimed 
in  a  loud  voice: 

"And  what  now?  Aren't  you  ashamed?  She  is  alone 
and  you  arc  a  hundred  against  her.  The  Almighty  doesn't 
require  your  shouts  to  punish  her.  Let  us  pass." 

She  had  taken  Blanche's  hand,  and  stood  erect  before 
the  murmuring  people,  who  drew  closer  together  so  as 
not  to  allow  the  two  young  girls  to  get  through  them. 
Fine  awaited  with  pale  and  trembling  lips.  And,  as  she 
encouraged  the  little  lady  with  a  glance,  she  perceived  that 


62  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

she  would  soon  be  a  mother.  She  turned  quite  pale  and 
advanced  towards  the  women. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  she  continued,  with  greater  violence. 
"Do  you  not  see  the  poor  girl's  condition,  and  that  you 
will  kill  her  child  ?  " 

She  thrust  back  an  old  hag  who  was  protesting,  and  all 
the  others  gave  way. 

Fine's  words  had  suddenly  made  them  silent  and 
compassionate.  Both  girls  were  then  able  to  retire. 

Blanche,  crimson  with  shame,  nestled  in  fear  against 
her  companion  and  feverishly  hastened  her  footsteps. 

In  order  to  avoid  the  Rue  du  Pont  Moreau,  which  was 
then  swarming  with  people  and  full  of  noise,  the  flower- 
girl  took  the  little  Rue  St.  John.  On  reaching  the  Cours, 
she  conducted  Mademoiselle  de  Cazalis  to  her  residence, 
the  door  of  which  was  open.  She  had  not  uttered  a 
single  word  all  the  way. 

Blanche  obliged  her  to  enter  the  hall,  and  there,  half 
closing  the  door,  she  said  to  her  in  an  affected  tone  of  voice : 

"  Oh !  Mademoiselle,  how  grateful  I  am  to  you  for 
your  assistance.  Those  wicked  women  would  have 
killed  me." 

"Don't  thank  me,"  answered  Fine  sharply,  "I  went 
there,  like  the  others,  to  insult  and  beat  you.  " 

"  You !  " 

"Yes,  I  hate  you,  I  wish  you  had  died  in  your  cradle." 

Blanche  looked  at  the  flower-girl  with  astonishment. 
She  had  drawn  herself  up,  her  aristocratic  instincts  were 
getting  the  better  of  her,  and  her  lips  were  curling  slightly 
with  disdain. 

The  two  young  girls  were  facing  each  other,  one  in 
all  her  slim  gracefulness,  the  other  in  all  her  energetic 
beauty.  They  contemplated  each  other  in  silence,  feeling 
the  rivalry  of  their  race  and  heart  thundering  within 
them. 

"You  are  beautiful  and  wealthy,"  continued  Fine  bit- 
terly. "  Why  did  you  come  and  rob  me  of  my  sweetheart, 
when  later  on  you  could  only  feel  contempt  and  anger 
for  him  ?  You  should  have  sought  out  someone  in  your 
own  sphere;  you  would  have  found  a  youth  as  pale  and 


BLANCHE   AND   FIXE   FACE   TO   FACE.  63 

cowardly  as  yourself  who  would  have  satisfied  your  little 
girlish  feeling  of  love.  Look  here,  do  not  take  our  men, 
or  if  you  do  we  will  tear  your  pink  faces." 

"  I  do  not  understand,  "  stammered  Blanche,  who  was 
becoming  afraid  again. 

"  You  don't  understand  ?  Listen :  1  was  in  love  with 
Philippe.  He  came  and  bought  roses  of  me  of  a  morn- 
ing and  my  heart  used  to  beat  fit  to  break,  when  I 
handed  him  my  nosegays.  I  now  know  where  those 
flowers  went  to.  One  day  they  told  me  he  had  run  away 
with  you.  I  wept,  then  I  thought  that  you  would  love 
him  fondly  and  he  would  be  happy.  And  now  you  have 
had  him  put  in  prison.  Look  here,  do  not  let  us  speak 
of  that,  or  I  shall  get  angry  and  beat  you.  " 

She  stopped  palpitating,  then  continued,  approaching 
nearer  to  Blanche  and  burning  her  icy  cold  cheeks  with 
her  hot  breath : 

"You  don't  know  then  how  we  love,  we  poor  girls? 
We  love  with  all  our  body,  with  ail  our  courage.  When 
we  run  away  with  a  man,  we  don't  say  afterwards  that 
he  took  advantage  of  our  weakness.  We  clasp  him  in 
our  arms  with  all  our  might  to  defend  him.  Ah  !  if 
Philippe  had  loved  me!  But  I  am  an  unhappy  girl,  a 
poor  creature,  an  ugly — 

And  Fine  began  to  sob  and  show  herself  as  weak  as 
Mademoiselle  de  Cazalis.  The  latter  took  her  hand,  and 
in  a  voice  broken  with  tears  answered : 

"For  pity's  sake  do  not  accuse  me.  Will  you  be  my 
friend?  Shall  I  lay  my  heart  bare  to  you?  I  suffer  so 
much,  if  you  only  knew  !  I  can  do  nothing.  I  obey  my 
uncle,  who  subdues  me  in  his  grip  of  iron.  1  am  a  coward, 
I  know  it;  but  I  have  not  the  strength  to  be  otherwise. 
And  I  love  Philippe,  the  memory  of  him  is  aKyays  within 
me.  He  told  me  it  would  be:  that  my  punishment,  if 
ever  I  betrayed  him,  would  be  to  love  him  cternallv,  to 
keep  him  without  end  in  my  breast.  lie  is  there,  he  is 
burning  me,  he  will  kill  me.  A  short  time  ago,  when 
they  sentenced  him,  I  felt  something  within  me  that  made 
me  start,  and  which  tore  my  inside.  I  weep,  look,  I  ask 
your  pardon.  " 


64  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

All  Fine's  anger  had  gone.  She  was  supporting  Blanche, 
who  was  staggering. 

"  You  are  right,"  continued  the  poor  child,  "  I  do  not 
deserve  pity.  I  have  dealt  a  blow  at  the  one  I  love  and 
who  will  never  love  me  more.  Ah!  for  mercy's  sake,  if 
he  one  day  become  your  husband,  speak  to  him  of  my 
tears,  ask  him  to  forgive  me.  What  drives  me  mad  is 
that  I  cannot  tell  him  I  worship  him :  he  would  laugh, 
he  would  not  understand  all  my  cowardice.  No,  do  not 
speak  to  him  of  me.  Let  him  forget  me :  I  shall  be  alone 
to  weep." 

There  was  a  painful  silence. 

"  And  your  child  ?  "  asked  Fine. 

"My  child,"  said  Blanche  bewildered,  "I  don't  know. 
My  uncle  will  take  it  away  from  me." 

"  Shall  I  act  as  a  mother  to  it  ?  " 

The  flower-girl  uttered  these  words  in  a  tender  and 
grave  voice.  Mademoiselle  clasped  her  in  her  arms  in  a 
passionate  embrace. 

"Oh!  you  are  good,"  she  said.  "You  know  how  to 
love.  Try  to  see  me  at  Marseilles  when  the  hour  arrives, 
I  will  trust  in  you." 

At  this  moment,  the  elderly  relative  returned,  after 
having  sought  in  vain  for  Blanche  in  the  crowd.  Fine 
promptly  withdrew  and  reascended  the  Cours.  As  she 
reached  the  Place  des  Carmelites,  she  perceived  Marius 
from  afar  conversing  with  Philippe's  lawyer. 

The  young  man  was  in  despair.  He  would  never  have 
believed  that  they  could  pass  such  a  severe  sentence  on 
his  brother.  The  five  years'  imprisonment  terrified  him; 
but  he  was  perhaps  still  more  painfully  overcome  at  the 
thought  of  the  public  exhibition  on  a  square  at  Marseilles. 
He  recognised  the  deputy's  hand  in  this  punishment. 

M.  de  Cazalis  had  above  all  wished  to  deprive  Philippe 
of  the  power  of  pleasing,  to  render  him  for  ever  unworthy 
of  woman's  love. 

The  crowd  surrounding  Marius  were  clamouring  about 
injustice,  the  public  with  one  voice  protesting  against  the 
enormity  of  the  punishment,  and  while  the  young  man 
was  engaged  in  a  heated  discussion  with  the  lawyer,  losing 


A  GAOLER'S  HEART  is  NOT  ALWAYS  OF  STONE.  65 

his  temper  and  showing  symptoms  of  despair,  he  felt  a 
soft  hand  on  his  arm.  He  turned  sharply  round  and 
perceived  Fine  at  his  side,  calm  and  smiling. 

"  Hope,  and  follow  me,"  she  said  to  him  in  an  undertone. 
"Your  brother  is  saved." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHICH    SHOWS    THAT   A    GAOLER'S    HEART   IS   NOT 
ALWAYS   MADE   OF   STONE. 

WHILE  Marius  was  running  over  the  town  before  the 
trial  to  no  purpose,  Fine  had  been  labouring  on  her  side 
at  the  work  of  deliverance.  She  had  engaged  in  a  regular 
campaign  against  the  conscience  of  her  uncle,  the  gaoler 
Revcrtegat. 

She  had  taken  up  her  quarters  with  him,  and  passed 
her  days  at  the  prison.  She  did  her  best  from  morning  to 
night  to  make  herself  useful,  to  be  beloved  by  her  uncle, 
who  lived  alone  like  a  growling  bear,  with  his  two  young 
daughters.  She  attacked  him  in  his  paternal  love,  she  was 
full  of  charming  ways  with  the  children,  and  spent  all 
her  savings  in  toys,  sweets,  and  small  articles  of  dress. 

The  little  ones  were  not  in  the  habit  of  being  spoiled. 
They  showed  riotous  tenderness  for  their  big  cousin,  who 
danced  them  on  her  knees  and  distributed  such  nice, 
beautiful  things  amongst  them.  The  father  felt  affected 
and  thanked  Fine  effusively. 

He  experienced  the  young  girl's  penetrating  influence  in 
spite  of  himself,  and  was  ill-tempered  when  he  had  to 
leave  her.  She  seemed  to  have  brought  the  sweet  perfume 
of  her  roses  and  violets  with  her.  The  lodge  smelt  nice 
since  she  was  there,  merry  and  light  of  foot;  her  bright 
petticoats  appeared  to  bring  light,  air,  and  gaiety.  All  was 
smiling,  now,  in  the  dark  room,  and  Revertegat  remarked, 
with  a  broad  grin,  that  spring  had  taken  up  its  abode  with  him . 

The  worthy  man  forgot  himself  in  the  caressing  efflu- 
via of  this  spring;  his  heart  softened  and  he  lost  the 
harshness  and  severitv  of  his  calling. 


66  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Fine  was  too  smart  a  girl  not  to  play  her  part  with 
fondling  prudence.  She  did  not  hasten  events,  she 
brought  the  gaoler  little  by  little  to  feelings  of  compas- 
sion and  kindness.  Then  she  pitied  Philippe  before  him, 
and  obliged  him  to  acknowledge  that  they  were  detaining 
him  unjustly  in  prison. 

When  she  held  her  uncle  in  her  power,  off  his  guard 
and  disposed  to  be  obedient  to  her  wishes,  she  asked 
him  if  she  could  not  visit  the  poor  young  man's  cell.  He 
dared  not  say  no,  but  conducted  her  there,  allowed  her 
to  enter,  and  remained  watching  at  the  door. 

Fine  stood  before  Philippe  like  a  silly  thing.  She 
gazed  at  him,  confused  and  blushing,  forgetting  what  she 
wanted  to  say  to  him.  The  young  man  recognised  her, 
and  hastened  towards  her  with  a  movement  full  of  ten- 
derness and  delight. 

"You  here,  my  dear  child?"  he  exclaimed.  "Ah!  how 
kind  of  you  to  have  come  to  see  me.  Will  you  allow  me 
to  kiss  your  hand  ? " 

Philippe  assuredly  imagined  himself  in  his  little  apart- 
ment in  the  Rue  Sainte,  and  he  was  not  perhaps  far  from 
dreaming  of  a  fresh  adventure.  The  flower-girl,  surprised, 
almost  wounded,  withdrew  her  hand  and  gravely  contem- 
plated Blanche's  lover. 

"You  must  be  mad,  Monsieur  Philippe,"  she  answered. 
"  You  know  very  well  that  you  are  married  now,  for  me. 
Let  us  speak  of  serious  things." 

She  lowered  her  voice  and  continued  rapidly: 

"  The  gaoler  is  my  uncle,  and  I  have  been  working  at 
your  deliverance  for  the  past  week.  I  wanted  to  see  you  to 
tell  you  that  your  friends  have  not  forgotten  you.  So  hope." 

Philippe,  on  hearing  this  good  news,  regretted  his  amo- 
rous welcome. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  "  he  said,  in  an  unsteady  voice, 
"It  is  a  friend  who  asks  you  for  it,  to  clasp  it  as  an  old 
comrade.  Do  you  forgive  me?" 

The  flower-girl  smiled  without  answering. 

"I  think,"  she  resumed,  "that  I  shall  soon  be  able  to 
throw  the  gate  wide  open  to  you.  On  what  day  would 
you  like  to  run  away  ?  " 


A  GAOLER'S  HEART  is  NOT  ALWAYS  OF  STONE.  67 

"Run  away!  But  I  shall  be  acquitted.  What  is  the 
use  of  running  away  ?  If  I  were  to  escape  I  should  be 
acknowledging  my  guilt." 

Fine  had  not  thought  of  this  reasoning.  To  her  mind 
Philippe  was  condemned  beforehand;  but,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  he  was  right,  he  must  await  the  judgment.  As 
she  preserved  silence,  pensive  and  irresolute,  Revertegat 
gave  two  gentle  knocks  at  the  door  to  beg  her  to  leave 
the  cell. 

"  Well ! "  she  resumed,  addressing  the  prisoner,  "  be 
ready  all  the  same.  If  you  are  condemned,  we  will  pre- 
pare your  flight,  your  brother  and  me.  Have  faith." 

She  withdrew,  leaving  Philippe  almost  in  love.  She 
had  now  time  before  her  to  win  over  her  uncle.  She 
continued  the  same  tactics,  bewitching  the  worthy  man 
with  her  goodness  of  heart  and  gracefulness,  and  exciting  his 
pity  on  his  prisoner's  lot.  In  the  end  she  even  drew 
her  two  little  cousins  into  the  conspiracy,  and  they  at  a 
word  would  have  left  their  father  to  follow  her. 

One  evening,  after  having  softened  Revertegat's  heart  by 
all  the  cajoling  she  was  capable  of,  she  ended  by  boldly 
asking  him  for  Philippe's  liberty. 

"Of  course, "  exclaimed  the  gaoler,  "  if  it  only  de- 
pended on  me,  I  would  open  the  door  to  him  immedi- 
ately." 

"  But  it  does  only  depend  on  you,  uncle, "  Fine  inno- 
cently answered. 

"Ah!  so  you  think.  But  the  next  morning  they  would 
turn  me  adrift  and  send  me  starving  with  my  two 
daughters." 

These    words    made   the  flower-girl  look  quite  serious. 

"  But,"  she  resumed,  after  a  moment,  "  if  I  gave  you 
money !  Supposing  I  loved  this  youth  ?  supposing  I  were 
to  implore  you  with  joined  hands,  to  give  him  back  to 
me?  " 

"  You,  you !  "  exclaimed  the  astonished  gaoler. 
He   had  risen,  he  gazed  at  his  niece  to  see  if  she  were 
not  laughing  at  him.     When  he  observed  her  grave  and 
troubled     manner    he  bent  forward,  vanquished,  softened, 
consenting  by  a  sign. 


68  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

"Faith,"  he  added,  "I'll  do  what  you  like.  You  are 
too  good  and  pretty  a  girl  for  me  to  refuse." 

Fine  kissed  him  and  spoke  of  something  else.  Henceforward 
she  was  sure  of  victory.  On  several  occasions  she  returned 
to  the  conversation,  accustoming  Revertegat  to  the  idea 
that  he  would  allow  Philippe  to  escape.  She  did  not  wish 
to  throw  her  relative  into  poverty,  and  she  offered  him  a 
first  reward  of  fifteen  thousand  francs.  This  offer  dazzled 
the  gaoler,  who  from  that  moment  belonged  to  her  body 
and  soul. 

And  that  is  how  Fine  had  been  able  to  say  to  Marius 
with  her  clever  smile.  "Follow  me.  Your  brother  is  saved." 

She  accompanied  the  young  man  to  the  prison.  On 
the  road  she  related  to  him  all  she  had  been  doing,  how 
she  had  little  by  little  won  over  her  uncle.  Marius'  straight- 
forward nature  set  him  first  of  all  against  the  plan.  Then 
he  remembered  the  intrigues  to  which  M.  de  Cazalis  had 
had  recourse  and  reflected  that,  after  all,  he  was  only 
making  use  of  the  same  weapons  as  his  adversaries,  and 
his  mind  was  at  ease. 

He  thanked  Fine  most  touchingly,  and  was  at  a  loss 
to  know  what  proof  to  give  her  of  his  gratitude.  The 
young  girl,  happy  beyond  measure,  hardly  listened  to  his 
protestations  of  devotedness. 

They  could  only  see  Revertegat  in  the  evening.  The 
gaoler  from  the  very  first  words  of  the  conversation,  pointed 
out  his  two  little  girls  who  were  playing  in  a  corner  of 
the  lodge,  and  simply  said  to  Marius: 

"  Monsieur,  they  are  my  excuse :  I  would  not  ask  a 
sou,  if  I  had  not  these  children  to  feed." 

This  was  a  painful  scene  for  Marius.  He  abridged 
it  as  much  as  possible.  He  was  aware  that  the  gaoler 
was  giving  way  both  to  self-sacrifice  and  interest,  and  if 
he  could  rrot  despise  him,  he  none  the  less  felt  ill  at 
ease  at  concluding  such  a  bargain  with  him. 

All  was  settled  in  a  few  minutes.  Marius  announced 
that  he  would  leave  the  following  morning  for  Marseilles 
and  would  bring  back  with  him  the  fifteen  thousand  francs 
promised  by  Fine.  He  would  get  them  from  his  banker: 
his  mother  had  left  a  sum  of  fifty  thousand  francs,  which 


A  BANKRUPTCY,  AS  THERE  ARE  MANY.  69 

was  deposited  with  M.  Berard,  whose  house  was  one  of 
the  most  important  and  best  known  of  the  city.  The 
flower-girl  was  to  remain  at  Aix  and  there  await  the  young 
man's  return. 

He  set  out  full  of  hope,  with  the  idea  that  his  brother 
was  already  free,  but  as  he  stepped  out  of  the  diligence  at 
Marseilles  he  learned  a  terrible  piece  of  news,  which  com- 
pletely staggered  him.  The  banker  Berard  had  just  been 
made  a  bankrupt. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A   BANKRUPTCY,  AS   THERE   ARE    MANY. 

MARIUS  hastened  to  the  banker  Berard.  He  could  not 
believe  the  bad  news,  he  possessed  all  the  confidence  of  a 
straightforward  mind.  On  the  road  he  said  to  himself 
that  the  rumours  that  were  afloat  were  perhaps,  after  all, 
only  calumnies,  and  so  he  clung  to  false  hopes.  The 
loss  of  his  fortune  at  this  moment  amounted  to  his  brother's 
discomfiture.  It  seemed  to  him  that  chance  would  not 
be  so  cruel — the  public  must  be  mistaken,  Berard  would 
hand  him  his  money. 

When  he  entered  the  banking-house,  he  was  seized 
with  a  pang  of  anguish.  He  saw  the  terrible  reality. 
The  offices  were  empty  ;  and  these  spacious  rooms,  de- 
serted and  calm,  with  their  closed  wirework  cages,  appeared 
to  him  funeral  like. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  what  mournful  desolation  a  for- 
tune that  is  breaking  up  leaves  behind  it.  From  the  coun- 
ing-house,  ledgers,  papers,  escaped  a  vague  odour  of 
ruin.  Seals  were  to  be  seen  everywhere  with  their  white 
bands  and  large  blotches  of  red  wax. 

Marius  crossed  three  rooms  without  meeting  anyone. 
He  at  length  discovered  a  clerk  who  had  come  to  remove 
a  few  objects  belonging  to  him  from  a  desk,  and  who 
answered  him  sharply  that  M.  Berard  was  in  his  office. 

The  young  man  entered  all  of  a  tremble,  forgetting  to 
close  the  door.  He  perceived  the  banker  quietly  at  work, 


70  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

writing  letters,  setting  papers  in  order  and  balancing  ac- 
counts. He  was  young,  tall,  had  a  handsome  and  intelli- 
gent face,  was  dressed  with  great  care,  wore  rings  on  his 
fingers,  and  presented  the  appearance  of  a  gallant  and 
wealthy  man.  One  would  have  said  he  had  just  had  a 
brush-up  to  receive  his  customers  and  explain  his  disaster 
to  them  himself. 

Moreover  his  attitude  appeared  courageous.  This  man 
was  either  a  victim  of  circumstances,  full  of  resignation, 
or  else  an  arrant  rascal  brazening  out  his  infamy. 

On  seeing  Marius  enter,  he  looked  him  in  the  face,  and 
his  countenance  wore  an  expression  of  sad  straightfor- 
wardness. 

"  I  was  awaiting  you,  dear  sir,"  he  said,  in  an  unsteady 
voice.  "You  see  I  am  waiting  for  all  those  whose  ruin 
I  have  brought  about.  I  shall  have  courage  to  the  end, 
I  want  each  of  them  to  assure  himself  that  I  have  no 
cause  to  be  ashamed." 

He  took  up  a  register  from  his  writing-table  and  opened 
it  with  some  affectation. 

"  Here  are  my  accounts,"  he  continued.  "  My  liabilities 
are  a  million,  my  assets  one  million  five  hundred  thousand 
francs.  The  Court  will  adjudicate  and  I  believe  my  creditors 
will  lose  nothing.  I  am  the  first  to  suffer,  I  have  lost  my 
fortune  and  credit,  I  have  allowed  insolvent  debtors  to 
rob  me  in  a  most  bare-faced  way." 

Marius  had  not  yet  uttered  a  word.  In  face  of  Berard's 
broken-down  serenity,  in  presence  of  this  display  of 
austere  grief  he  could  not  find  a  single  reproach,  not  one 
word  of  indignation.  He  almost  pitied  this  man  who  was 
heading  the  storm. 

"Sir,"  he  said  to  him  at  last,  "why  did  you  not  warn 
me  when  you  saw  your  affairs  getting  into  a  mess  and 
turning  to  the  bad  ?  My  mother  was  a  friend  of  your 
mother's.  In  remembrance  of  our  former  intimacy,  you 
should  have  made  me  withdraw  this  money,  which  you 
were  about  to  compromise,  from  your  control.  Your 
present  ruin  strips  me  of  everything,  and  plunges  me  in 
despair." 

Berard  ran  forward  and  grasped  Marius'  hands. 


A   BANKRUPTCY,  AS   THERE  ARE   MANY.          7  I 

"  Do  not  say  that !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  broken 
by  tears,  "  do  not  overwhelm  me.  Ah  !  you  have  no  idea 
of  the  regret  that  is  tormenting  me.  When  I  saw  the 
abyss  I  sought  to  catch  hold  of  the  branches ;  I  struggled 
till  the  last  moment,  hoping  to  be  able  to  save  the  amounts 
deposited  in  my  hands.  You  cannot  imagine  what  terrible 
risks  are  run  by  those  who  deal  in  money." 

Marius  had  nothing  to  answer.  What  could  he  say  to 
a  man  who  found  his  excuse  in  self-accusation  ?  He  had 
no  proofs,  he  did  not  dare  call  Berard  a  scamp.,  it  only 
remained  to  him  to  withdraw.  The  banker  spoke  in  such 
an  aggrieved  tone  of  voice,  in  such  a  convinced  and 
straightforward  manner  that  he  hastened  to  go  away  and 
leave  him  to  himself.  He  felt  oppressed  at  his  misfortune. 

As  he  was  crossing  the  empty  offices  again,  the  clerk 
who  had  at  last  gathered  his  things  together,  took  his 
bundle  and  hat  and  followed  him.  This  clerk  was  muttering 
between  his  teeth.  At  each  step  he  looked  in  a  strange 
way  at  Marius  and  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Below,  on 
the  pavement,  he  suddenly  approached  him. 

"  Well !  "  said  he,  "what  think  you  of  M.  Berard  ?  He's 
a  splendid  actor,  isn't  he  ?  The  door  of  his  office  was 
open  and  it  made  me  laugh  to  sec  his  distressed  manner. 
He  almost  wept,  the  honest  fellow!  Permit  me  to  tell 
you  that  you  have  just  allowed  yourself  to  be  duped  in 
the  most  beautiful  way." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  answered  Marius. 

"  So  much  the  better.  That  is  because  you  are  an 
honest  man.  For  my  part,  I  have  just  left  this  shop  with 
profound  satisfaction.  I  long  since  expected  a  stroke  of 
business  like  this:  I  foresaw  the  issue  of  this  high  comedy 
of  theft.  I  possess  a  peculiar  knack  for  ferreting  out 
jobbery  in  a  firm." 

"  Explain  yourself." 

"Oh!  the  story  is  simple.  I'll  relate  it  to  you  in  a 
few  words.  Ten  years  ago  Berard  started  a  banking  busi- 
ness. At  the  present  day  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  pre- 
pared his  bankruptcy  from  the  first  moment.  This  was  his 
reasoning:  'I  wish  to  be  rich  because  I  have  many  de- 
sires, and  to  be  so  as  rapidly  as  possible,  because  I  am 


72  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

in  a  hurry  to  satisfy  them.  But  the  straight  road  is 
rough  and  long,  I  prefer  to  follow  the  paths  of  cheating 
and  get  my  million  together  in  ten  years.  I  will  make 
myself  a  banker,  I  shall  have  a  counting-house  where  I 
will  take  the  people's  money  as  a  bird-catcher  snares 
the  feathered  songsters.  Each  year  I  will  pilfer  a 
round  sum.  That  will  last  as  long  as  is  necessary,  I  will 
stop  when  my  pockets  are  full.  Then  I  shall  quietly 
suspend  payment;  on  two  millions  that  will  have  been 
entrusted  to  me,  I  will  generously  return  two  or  three 
hundred  thousand  francs  to  my  creditors.  The  remain- 
der, hidden  away  in  a  little  corner  I  know  of,  will  assist 
me  to  live  as  I  desire,  as  an  idler  and  a  voluptuary.'  Do 
you  understand,  dear  sir  ?  " 

Marius  had  listened  to  the  clerk  with  stupefaction. 

"But,"  he  exclaimed  at  last,  "what  you  are  telling  me 
is  impossible.  Berard  has  just  confided  to  me  that  his 
liabilities  amount  to  a  million,  and  his  assets  to  a  million 
and  a  half.  We  shall  all  be  paid  in  full." 

The  clerk  held  his  sides  with  laughter. 

"  Ah  !  Goodness,  gracious !  How  simple  you  are !  "  he 
continued.  "  Do  you  really  believe  in  these  assets  of  a 
million  and  a  half?  First  of  all,  they  will  deduct  Madame 
Berard's  marriage-portion  from  the  amount.  Now,  Ma- 
dame Berard  brought  her  husband  fifty  thousand  francs, 
which  he,  in  the  marriage  contract,  transformed  into  the 
handsome  sum  of  five  hundred  thousand  francs.  That, 
as  you  see,  was  a  little  robbery  of  four  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs.  There  remains  a  million,  and  that 
million  is  almost  entirely  represented  by  suspicious  book 
debts.  Oh!  the  proceeding  is  simple  enough.  There  are 
persons  at  Marseilles  who  sell  their  signatures  for  a  hun- 
dred sou  piece;  and  they  live  very  well  at  this  easy  and 
lucrative  business.  Berard  had  got  men  of  straw  to  sign 
him  numbers  of  acceptances,  and  he  pocketed  the  money 
which  he  now  pretends  he  lent  to  insolvent  debtors.  If 
they  give  you  ten  per  cent,  on  your  claim,  you  may  es- 
teem yourself  lucky;  and  you  will  only  receive  that  in 
eighteen  months  or  two  years  when  the  assignees  of  the 
bankruptcy  have  concluded  their  work." 


A    BANKRUPTCY,    AS   THERE  ARE    MANY.        73 

Marius  was  completely  upset.  Thus  the  fifty  thousand 
francs  left  him  by  his  mother  would  be  useless  to  him. 
He  wanted  money  at  once  and  they  talked  to  him  of 
waiting  two  years.  And  his  ruin  and  despair  were  the 
work  of  a  scoundrel  who  had  just  been  laughing  at  him ! 
He  flew  into  a  passion. 

"  This  Berard  is  a  rascal, "  he  burst  out.  "  He  will  be 
vigorously  hunted  down.  Society  must  be  freed  of  these 
crafty  men  who  enrich  themselves  by  the  ruin  of  others. 
The  galleys  await  them." 

The  clerk  again  burst  out  laughing. 

"Berard,"  he  continued,  "  will  perhaps  get  a  fortnight's 
imprisonment  That  is  all.  You  don't  seem  to  under- 
stand again?  Listen  to  me." 

The  two  young  men  had  been  standing  on  the  pave- 
ment, elbowed  by  the  passers-by.  They  returned  into 
the  hall  of  the  banker's  house. 

"  You  say  the  galleys  await  Berard,"  continued  the 
clerk.  "  The  galleys  only  await  clumsy  folk.  During  the 
ten  years  that  our  customer  has  been  hatching  and  nurs- 
ing his  bankruptcy  he  has  taken  his  precautions;  infamy, 
such  as  this,  is  quite  a  work  of  art.  His  accounts 
are  in  order,  and  he  has  the  law  on  his  side.  He  knew 
beforehand  how  slight  was  the  risk  he  ran.  The  most  the 
court  can  do  will  be  to  reproach  him  with  heavy  perso- 
nal expenses;  they  will  tax  him,  besides,  with  having  put 
a  large  number  of  bills  of  exchange  in  circulation,  which 
is  a  ruinous  way  of  procuring  money.  The  penalties  for 
such  mistakes  are  ridiculous.  Berard,  as  I  told  you,  will 
get  a  fortnight,  or  a  month's  imprisonment  at  the  most." 

"But,"  exclaimed  Marius,  "cannot  one  go  and  proclaim 
this  man's  crime  on  the  public  square,  prove  it,  and  have 
him  sentenced?" 

"No,  indeed!  one  cannot  do  that.  Proofs  are  wanting, 
I  tell  you.  Besides  Berard  has  not  lost  his  time,  he  has 
foreseen  everything,  he  has  made  powerful  friends  at  Mar- 
seilles, imagining  he  would  some  day  have  need  of  their 
influence.  He  is  now  a  sort  of  inviolable  personage  in 
this  city  of  coteries:  if  they  touched  a  single  hair  of  his 
head  all  his  friends  would  yell  with  grief  and  rage.  The 


74  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

most  they  could  do  would  be  to  imprison  him  for  form's 
sake.  When  he  leaves  gaol  he  will  find  his  little  million 
again,  he  will  make  a  show  of  luxury  and  will  easily 
conquer  fresh  esteem.  Yon  will  then  meet  him  driving 
out  in  his  carriage,  extended  on  his  cushions,  and  the 
wheels  of  his  vehicle  will  splash  you  with  mud ;  you  will 
find  him  indifferent  and  idle,  with  a  large  establishment, 
enjoying  all  the  luxuries  of  life.  And  to  worthily  crown 
this  success  in  the  art  of  robbery,  they  will  bow  to  him, 
like  him,  and  open  him  a  new  credit  of  honour  and 
consideration." 

Marius  preserved  ferocious  silence.  The  clerk  made  him 
a  slight  bow,  and  was  about  to  leave  him. 

"It  is  thus  the  farce  is  played,"  he  added.  "I  had  all 
that  on  my  heart,  and  am  glad  to  have  met  you  to  ease 
myself.  Now,  a  piece  of  advice  :  keep  what  I  have  told 
you  to  yourself,  say  good-bye  to  your  money,  and  do  not 
bother  any  more  about  the  sorry  business.  Reflect  and 
you  will  see  I  am  right.  Good-day." 

Marius  remained  alone.  He  had  a  tremendous  desire 
to  rush  upstairs  to  Berard  and  slap  him  in  the  face.  All 
his  instincts  of  probity  and  justice  had  risen  up  within 
him,  urging  him  to  drag  the  banker  out  into  the  street 
and  proclaim  his  crime.  Then  his  passion  gave  way  to 
disgust,  he  remembered  his  poor  mother  shamelessly  deceived 
by  this  man,  and  from  that  moment  he  felt  nothing  but 
crushing  contempt  for  him.  He  followed  the  clerk's  advice 
and  left  the  house,  endeavouring  to  forget  that  he  had 
had  money  and  that  a  rascal  had  robbed  him  of  it. 

What  the  clerk  had  told  him  was  confirmed  in  every 
point.  Berard  was  sentenced  to  a  month's  imprisonment 
for  simple  bankruptcy. 

A  year  afterwards,  with  florid  complexion  and  easy, 
insolent  bearing,  he  sauntered  about  Marseilles  displaying 
the  jovial  humour  of  a  wealthy  man.  He  rang  his  purse 
in  the  clubs,  restaurants  and  theatres,  everywhere  in  fact 
where  pleasure  could  be  purchased,  and  on  his  road  he 
invariably  met  with  complaisant  persons,  or  dupes  who  bowed 
to  him  lewly. 


THIRTY   THOUSAND   FRANCS   A   YEAR.  75 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN    WHICH   IT   IS   PROVED    THAT   IT   IS   POSSIBLE   TO 

SPEND   THIRTY    THOUSAND   FRANCS   A 

YEAR   WHEN  ONLY   EARNING 

EIGHTEEN   HUNDRED. 

MARIUS  went  mechanically  down  to  the  port.  He  walked 
straight  on  without  noticing  whither  he  was  going.  He 
was,  so  to  say,  in  a  state  of  stupefaction.  One  sole  thought 
occupied  his  otherwise  empty  brain,  and  kept  repeating 
in  a  sing-song  way  that  he  needed  fifteen  thousand  francs 
without  a  moment's  loss  of  time,  He  cast  about  him  the 
vague  glance  of  persons  in  despair,  as  though  he  were 
looking  on  the  ground  to  see  if  he  could  not  find  the 
money  he  required  in  the  interstices  of  the  paving-stones. 
Down  at  the  port  he  felt  a  longing  to  be  rich.  The 
merchandise  piled  up  along  the  quays,  the  ships  bringing 
fortunes  in  their  holds,  the  noise,  the  motion  of  that 
money-making  crowd,  irritated  him.  Never  before  had 
he  felt  his  poverty  so  strongly.  For  a  moment  he  was 
filled  with  envy,  revolt,  and  bitter  jealousy.  He  asked 
himself  why  he  was  poor  whilst  others  were  rich. 

And  still  that  ever-recurring  thought  kept  ringing  in  his 
head,  fit  to  break  it.  Fifteen  thousand  francs !  fifteen 
thousand  francs !  His  brother  was  awaiting  him,  and  he 
could  not  go  back  empty-handed.  He  had  only  a  few 
hours  in  which  to  save  him  from  infamy.  But  he  could 
form  no  plan,  his  bewildered  senses  did  not  furnish  him 
with  a  single  practical  idea.  He  turned  about  in  his 
powerlessness,  exerted  every  effort  of  his  mind  in  vain, 
he  struggled,  almost  choking  with  rage  and  anguish.  He 
could  never  ask  his  employer,  M.  Martelly,  to  lend  him 
fifteen  thousand  francs.  His  earnings  were  too  small  to 
warrant  such  a  loan.  Moreover,  he  knew  the  ship-owner's 
upright  principles,  and  dreaded  his  reproaches  if  he 
admitted  to  him  that  he  wished  to  purchase  another's  con- 
science. M.  Martelly  would  at  once  have  refused  the  money. 

Marius   suddenly   had  an  idea.     He  would  not  stav  to 


76  THE    MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

discuss  it  in  his  mind,  but  hurried  off  to  his  lodging  in 
the  Rue  Sainte.  On  the  same  floor  as  himself  there 
resided  a  young  clerk,  named  Charles  Bletry,  who  was 
employed  as  collector  at  the  soap-works  of  Messrs.  Daste 
and  Degans.  A  kind  of  intimacy  had  sprung  up  between 
these  two  young  fellows  living  side  by  side.  Marius  had 
been  won  over  by  Charles's  gentleness;  for  the  latter  went 
regularly  to  church,  led  an  exemplary  life,  and  appeared 
to  be  of  the  strictest  honesty.  Yet  during  the  past  two 
years  he  had  been  spending  money  pretty  freely.  He  had 
refurnished  his  lodging  in  a  luxurious  style,  buying  carpets, 
hangings,  mirrors,  and  rich  furniture.  Besides  this,  he  came 
home  later,  lived  more  expensively;  but  still  remained 
gentle  and  honest,  quiet  and  pious. 

At  first,  his  neighbour's  outlay  rather  astonished  Marius, 
who  could  not  understand  how  a  clerk  earning  eighteen 
hundred  francs  a  year  could  afford  to  purchase  such 
expensive  things.  But  Charles  told  him  that  he  had 
inherited  some  money,  and  that  he  intended  shortly  to 
resign  his  position  and  live  on  his  means.  He  even  placed 
himself  and  his  purse  at  his  disposal ;  but  Marius  declined. 
To-day,  he  recalled  this  offer,  and  was  about  to  knock  at 
the  young  man's  door  and  ask  him  for  the  means  to  save 
his  brother.  A  loan  of  fifteen  thousand  francs  would  not 
perhaps  inconvenience  him,  seeing  how  lavishly  he  was 
spending  his  money.  He  proposed  to  himself  to  repay 
the  amount  in  instalments,  persuaded  that  his  neighbour 
would  grant  him  all  the  time  necessary. 

The  clerk,  however,  was  not  at  home  in  the  Rue  Sainte, 
and  as  Marius  was  pressed  for  time  he  went  off  to  Messrs. 
Daste  and  Degans'  soap-works,  situated  on  the  Boulevard 
des  Dames.  When  he  arrived  there  and  asked  for  Charles 
Bletry,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  eyed  in  a  strange 
manner.  The  workmen  told  him  to  address  himself  to 
M.  Daste,  who  was  in  his  office.  Surprised  at  this  reception, 
Marius  decided  to  do  so,  and  found  the  manufacturer 
engaged  in  conversation  with  three  gentlemen,  who  stopped 
talking  directly  he  showed  himself. 

"Can  you  tell  me,  sir,"  inquired  the  young  man,  "if 
M.  Charles  Bletry  is  at  the  factory?" 


THIRTY   THOUSAND    FRANCS   A    YEAR.  77 

Daste  exchanged  a  rapid  glance  with  one  of  the  persons 
present,  a  stout,  pale,  and  severe-looking  man. 

"  M.  Charles  Bletry  will  return  presently,"  he  replied. 
"Please  wait  for  him.  Are  you  a  friend  of  his?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Marius,  simply.  "  He  resides  in  the 
same  house  as  I  do.  I  have  known  him  for  about  three 
years." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  young  man,  thinking  he  was 
in  the  way,  added,  with  a  bow,  and  walking  towards 
the  door: 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you.  I  will  wait  for  him 
outside." 

Then  the  stout  gentleman  leant  forward  and  said  a  few 
words  to  the  manufacturer  in  a  low  voice.  M.  Daste 
signed  to  Marius  to  stay. 

"Have  the  goodness  to  wait  here,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Your  presence  may  be  useful  to  us.  You  must  know 
something  of  M.  Bletry's  mode  of  living,  and  can  no 
doubt  give  us  some  information  about  him." 

Marius,  greatly  astonished,  and  not  understanding,  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Excuse  me,"  resumed  M.  Daste  with  great  politeness, 
"  I  see  that  my  words  surprise  you. "  And  indicating  the 
stout  man,  he  went  on :  "  That  gentleman  is  the  police 
commissary  of  the  district,  and  I  have  sent  for  him  to 
arrest  Charles  Bletry  who  has  robbed  us  of  sixty  thou- 
sand francs  in  two  years." 

On  hearing  Charles  accused  of  theft,  Marius  understood 
everything.  He  accounted  for  the  young  fellow's  lavish 
expenditure,  and  shuddered  at  the  thought  that  he  had 
been  on  the  point  of  accepting  his  offers  of  service.  He 
would  never  have  believed  that  his  neighbour  could  have 
been  guilty  of  a  mean  action.  He  knew  very  well 
that  there  existed  at  Marseilles,  as  in  all  great  cen- 
tres of  industry,  clerks  who  robbed  their  employers  in 
order  to  satisfy  their  vices  and  their  love  of  luxury; 
he  had  often  heard  of  clerks  earning  a  hundred  or  a 
hundred  and  fifty  francs  a  month,  and  who  managed  to 
lose  immense  sums  in  gambling  in  the  clubs,  to  throw 
gold  to  loose  women,  and  to  idle  away  their  time  in 


78  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES!. 

restaurants  and  cafes.  But  Charles  seemed  so  pious,  so 
modest,  so  honest,  he  had  played  the  hypocrite  so  art- 
fully, that  Marius  had  been  taken  in  by  these  appear- 
ances of  probity,  and  he  even  now  entertained  doubts  de- 
spite M.  Daste's  formal  accusation. 

He  seated  himself  and  awaited  the  development  of  the 
drama.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  could  not  very  well  have 
done  otherwise.  During  half-an-hour  a  mournful  silence 
reigned  in  the  office.  The  manufacturer  was  writing,  whilst  the 
police  commissary  and  the  two  officers,  mute  and  looking 
half  asleep,  gazed  vaguely  before  them  with  terrible 
patience.  Such  a  sight  was  calculated  to  make  Marius 
honest  had  he  been  disposed  to  be  otherwise.  A  step 
was  heard  outside,  and  the  door  slowly  opened. 

"  Here's  our  man,"  said  M.  Daste,  rising  from  his  seat. 

Charles  Bletry  entered  quite  unsuspiciously,  without 
even  noticing  the  persons  who  were  there. 

"  You  wish  to  see  me,  sir  ?  "  he  asked,  in  that  drawling 
voice  peculiar  to  clerks  when  addressing  their  employers. 

As  M.  Daste  was  looking  him  straight  in  the  face,  he 
turned  round  and  beheld  the  police  commissary,  whom 
he  knew  by  sight.  He  became  ghastly  pale,  understand- 
ing that  he  was  lost,  and  his  whole  body  trembled.  He 
had  just  walked  into  the  meshes  of  the  law  with  his  eyes 
shut.  Seeing  that  his  frightened  looks  were  accusing  him, 
he  tried  to  pull  himself  together  and  to  recover  a  little 
coolness  and  audacity. 

"  Yes,  I  wish  to  see  you!  "  M.  Daste  exclaimed,  violently. 
"And  you  know  why,  don't  you?  Ah!  scoundrel,  you'll 
never  rob  me  again  ! " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  stammered  Bletry. 
"  I've  never  robbed  you.  What  is  it  you  accuse  me  of?  " 

The  police  commissary  had  seated  himself  at  the  manu- 
facturer's desk,  ready  to  draw  up  his  report,  whilst  the 
two  officers  were  guarding  the  door. 

"Kindly  tell  me,  sir,"  said  the  police  commissary  to 
M.  Daste,  "  how  you  discovered  that  M.  Bletry  had  been 
guilty  of  embezzling  your  money." 

Then  M.  Daste  told  the  story  of  the  crime.  He  no- 
ticed that  occasionally  his  collector  was  an  extremely  long 


THIRTY  THOUSAND  FRANCS   A   YEAR.  79 

time  in  getting  in  certain  monies.  But  as  he  had  unlim- 
ited confidence  in  the  young  man,  he  attributed  these  delays 
to  the  dilatoriness  of  his  customers.  The  first  embezzle- 
ment must  have  occurred  quite  eighteen  months  back. 
Anyhow,  the  day  before,  one  of  his  customers  being  on 
the  verge  of  bankruptcy,  he  had  gone  personally  to  demand 
payment  of  an  account  amounting  to  five  thousand  francs, 
and  had  thereupon  learnt  that  Bletry  had  collected  it 
some  weeks  previously.  Much  alarmed,  he  had  hurried 
back  to  the  factory,  and,  by  going  through  the  cashier's 
books,  had  convinced  himself  that  about  sixty  thousand 
francs  were  missing. 

The  police  commissary  then  proceeded  to  question  Ble- 
try. The  latter,  taken  unawares  and  unable  to  deny  the 
facts,  concocted  a  ridiculous  story. 

"One  day,"  he  said,  "I  lost  my  pocket-book  contain- 
ing forty  thousand  francs.  I  had  not  the  courage  to 
tell  M.  Daste  of  this  great  misfortune,  so  I  embezzled  some 
money  to  gamble  on  the  stock  exchange,  hoping  to  win 
and  so  reimburse  the  firm." 

The  police  commissary  asked  him  for  particulars,  con- 
fused him  by  his  questions,  and  forced  him  to  contradict 
himself.  Bletry  then  tried  another  falsehood. 

"You  are  right,"  he  resumed,  "I  did  not  lose  the 
pocket-book.  I  prefer  to  tell  you  everything.  The  truth 
is  I  was  robbed  myself.  I  gave  shelter  to  a  young  man 
who  was  hard-up.  One  night  he  went  off  with  my 
collector's  bag,  and  it  contained  a  considerable  sum  of 
money." 

"Come,  don't  make  your  crime  worse  by  lying,"  said 
the  commissary,  with  that  terrifying  patience  of  police 
officials.  "  You  know  very  well  that  we  can't  believe  you. 
It's  no  use  inventing  such  rigmaroles."  He  then  turned 
to  Marius  and  continued :  "  I  asked  M.  Dastc  to  detain 
you,  sir,  thinking  you  might  be  useful  to  us  in  our  inquiry. 
The  accused  is,  you  said,  your  neighbour.  Do  you  know 
anything  about  his  mode  of  life.  Will  you  not  beseech  him 
with  us  to  tell  the  truth  ?  " 

Marius  felt  dreadfully  embarrassed.  He  pitied  Bletry, 
who  was  reeling  like  a  drunken  man  and  looking  at  him 


80  THE   MYSTERIES   OF    MARSEILLES. 

imploringly.  The  man  was  not  a  hardened  scoundrel ;  no 
doubt  he  had  given  way  to  temptation,  to  a  weak  mind 
and  heart.  But  Marius's  conscience  would  not  be  stilled, 
and  commanded  him  to  say  what  he  knew.  He  did  not 
reply  to  the  police  commissary  directly,  but  preferred  to 
address  himself  to  Bletry. 

"Listen,  Charles,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  know  whether 
you  are  guilty.  I  have  always  found  you  good  and 
quiet.  I  am  aware  that  you  support  your  mother 
and  that  you  are  beloved  by  all  who  know  you.  If  you 
have  been  guilty  of  wrong,  admit  your  folly :  you  will  cause 
less  suffering  to  those  who  love  and  esteem  you  by  frankly 
owning  your  guilt  and  showing  sincere  repentance." 

Marius  spoke  in  a  gentle  and  convincing  voice.  Bletry, 
whom  the  curt  words  of  the  police  commissary  had  left 
dumb  and  inwardly  irritated,  gave  way  before  his  friend's 
kindness.  He  thought  of  his  mother,  he  thought  of  the 
esteem  and  the  friendships  he  was  about  to  lose,  and  his 
emotion  nearly  choked  him.  He  burst  into  sobs,  weeping 
hot  tears  in  his  closed  hands ;  and  for  some  minutes  no 
sound  was  heard  but  the  heartrending  cry  of  his  despair. 
It  was  a  complete  avowal.  The  spectators  of  the  scene 
remained  silent. 

"Well!  yes,"  Bletry  exclaimed  at  last,  amidst  his  tears. 
"  I  have  robbed,  I'm  a  scoundrel — I  didn't  know  what  I 
was  about — I  commenced  by  taking  a  few  hundred  francs, 
then  I  required  a  thousand,  two  thousand,  five  thousand, 
ten  thousand  francs  at  a  time — It  seemed  as  if  someone 
was  behind  me,  urging  me  on — And  my  needs,  my  appe- 
tites were  ever  increasing." 

"  But  what  did  you  do  with  all  that  money  ? "  asked 
the  police  commissary. 

"I  don't  know — I  gave  it  away,  lost  it  at  play,  devoured 
it  somehow — You  don't  know  the  life — I  was  happy 
enough  in  my  poverty  and  troubled  with  nothing,  I  loved 
to  go  to  church  and  to  live  worthily  like  an  honest  man. 
But  then  I  had  a  taste  of  luxury  and  vice,  I  got  to  know 
women,  I  bought  expensive  things — I  was  mad." 

"Can  you  give  me  the  names  of  the  women  with  whom 
you  squandered  the  money  you  were  embezzling  ?  " 


PHILIPPE   REFUSES   TO    SAVE   HIMSELF.  8 1 

"  As  if  I  knew  their  names !  I  met  them  here,  there, 
everywhere,  in  the  streets  and  at  public  balls.  They 
came  because  I  had  my  pockets  full  of  gold,  and 
they  went  off  when  they  were  empty — Then  I  lost  a  lot 
playing  baccara  at  the  clubs — What  turned  me  into  a 
thief  was  seeing  certain  well-born  young  men  throwing 
their  money  out  of  window  and  revelling  in  wealth  and 
idleness.  I  wanted  to  know  women  as  they  did,  to  have 
noisy  joys,  nights  spent  in  gambling  and  debauchery — I 
required  thirty  thousand  francs  a  year,  and  I  was  only 
earning  eighteen  hundred— so  I  ended  by  stealing." 

The  poor  wretch,  suffocating,  overcome  by  grief,  dropped 
on  to  a  chair.  Marius  went  up  to  M.  Daste  who  was 
also  much  affected,  and  beseeched  him  to  be  merciful. 
He  then  hastened  to  withdraw  from  a  scene  which  made 
his  heart  bleed.  He  left  Bletry  quite  prostrated  by  a  kind 
of  nervous  stupor. 

Some  months  later  he  learnt  that  the  young  man  had 
been  condemned  to  five  years'  imprisonment. 

Once  outside,  Marius  experienced  a  great  feeling  of 
relief.  He  understood  that  by  assisting  at  Charles's  arrest 
he  had  received  a  lesson.  A  few  hours  before,  when  down 
at  the  port,  he  had  indulged  in  some  evil  ideas  of  fortune. 
He  had  just  seen  where  such  thoughts  might  lead  him. 
And  suddenly  he  remembered  why  he  had  gone  to  the 
soap-works.  He  had  only  another  hour  left  in  which  to 
find  the  fifteen  thousand  francs  which  were  to  save  his 
brother. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
PHILIPPE  REFUSES   TO   SAVE   HIMSELF. 

MARIUS   had   to  admit  to  himself  how  powerless  he  was. 
He  knew  not  at  what  door  to  knock. 

It  is  not  easy  for  a  simple  clerk  to  borrow  fifteen 
thousand  francs  in  the  course  of  an  hour.  He  walked 
slowly  down  the  Rue  d'Aix,  straining  his  mind  but  finding 
nothing  in  his  wearied  brain.  Money  troubles  are  terrible ; 

6 


82  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

one  would  sooner  battle  with  an  assassin  than  fight  against 
the  imperceptible  and  crushing  phantom  of  poverty. 
Nobody  has  ever  yet  been  able  to  conjure  up  a  five- 
franc  piece. 

When  the  young  man,  hopeless  and  at  his  wits'  end, 
reached  the  Cours  Belzunce,  he  decided  to  return  to  Aix 
empty-handed.  The  coach  was  about  to  start,  and  there 
was  only  one  vacant  seat  left,  an  outside  one.  He  took 
it  with  delight,  preferring  to  remain  in  the  open  air,  for 
anxiety  was  stifling  him,  and  he  hoped  that  the  vast  horizon 
of  the  open  country  would  calm  his  fever.  It  was  a  sad 
journey.  In  the  morning,  he  had  passed  the  same  trees, 
the  same  hills,  and  hope,  which  brought  a  smile  to  his 
lips,  then  shed  a  joyous  brightness  over  the  fields  and 
slopes.  Now,  as  he  again  beheld  the  same  country-side, 
he  enveloped  it  in  all  the  gloom  that  was  weighing  on 
his  mind. 

The  heavy  vehicle  lumbered  on;  the  cultivated  land, 
the  pine-woods,  the  little  hamlets  succeeded  each  other 
at  either  side  of  the  road;  and  Marius  found  in  each 
change  of  landscape  a  deeper  air  of  mourning,  a  more 
poignant  grief.  Night  fell,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
entire  country  was  covered  by  an  immense  pall. 

On  reaching  Aix,  he  walked  slowly  towards  the  prison. 
He  felt  that  he  would  always  arrive  too  soon  with  his 
evil  news.  When  he  entered  the  gaol,  it  was  nine  o'clock. 
Revertegat  and  Fine  were  killing  time  by  having  a  game 
at  cards  on  a  corner  of  the  table.  The  flower-girl  jumped 
up  gleefully  and  ran  to  meet  the  young  man. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  asked  him,  with  a  bright  smile,  and  throwing 
back  her  head  coquettishly. 

Marius  had  not  the  courage  to  reply.  He  sat  down 
exhausted. 

"  Speak   up !  "    cried    Fine.     "  You've  got  the  money  ?  " 

"  No,"  the  young  man  answered,  simply. 

After  a  moment  he  told  them  of  Berard's  failure. 
Bletry's  arrest,  all  the  misfortunes  he  had  encountered 
at  Marseilles.  He  wound  up  by  saying: 

"  I  am  now  no  more  than  a  poverty-stricken  wretch 
My  brother  will  remain  a  prisoner." 


PHILIPPE    REFUSES   TO    SAVE   HIMSELF.  83 

The  flower-girl  remained  painfully  surprised.  Her  hands 
clasped,  in  that  attitude  of  pity  peculiar  to  Provencal 
women,  she  repeated  in  a  rueful  tone  of  voice : 

"How  sad,  how  sad!" 

She  looked  at  her  uncle  and  seemed  to  be  urging  him 
to  speak.  Revertegat  eyed  the  two  young  people  com- 
passionately. It  was  evident  that  a  struggle  was  taking 
place  within  him.  At  length  he  seemed  to  make  up  his 
mind,  and  said  to  Marius : 

"  Listen  to  me,  sir.  My  duties  have  not  hardened  me 
to  such  an  extent  as  to  render  me  insensible  to  the 
sufferings  of  worthy  people.  I  have  already  said  why  I 
was  willing  to  sell  you  your  brother's  freedom.  But  I  do 
not  wish  you  to  think  that  the  love  of  money  alone  is 
prompting  me.  If  unfortunate  circumstances  prevent  your 
placing  me  at  once  out  of  the  reach  of  poverty,  I  will 
nevertheless  open  the  door  to  M.  Philippe.  You  can  come 
to  my  assistance  later  on,  and  pay  me  the  fifteen  thousand 
francs  little  by  little  when  you  are  able  to  do  so." 

Fine  clapped  her  hands  on  hearing  these  words.  She 
flung  her  arms  round  her  uncle's  neck  and  embraced  him 
heartily.  Marius  looked  very  grave  as  he  replied : 

"  I  cannot  accept  your  sacrifice.  I  am  already  reproaching 
myself  with  having  tempted  you  to  disregard  your  duty, 
and  I  refuse  to  increase  my  responsibility  by  also  casting 
you  adrift  without  a  crust  of  bread." 

The  flower-girl  turned  to  the  young  man  almost  angrily. 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  she  cried.  "  M.  Philippe  must 
be  saved.  I  intend  that  he  shall  be.  Besides,  we  don't 
need  you  to  open  the  prison  doors.  Come,  uncle.  If 
M.  Philippe  is  willing,  his  brother  can  have  nothing 
to  say." 

Marius  followed  the  young  woman  and  the  gaoler  who 
•were  going  in  the  direction  of  the  prisoner's  cell.  They 
had  taken  a  dark  lantern,  and  were  gliding  softly  along 
the  passages  in  order  not  to  excite  remark.  All  three 
entered  the  cell  and  closed  the  door  behind  them.  Philippe 
was  asleep. 

Revertegat,  moved  by  his  niece's  tears,  had  softened 
the  prison  regulations  as  much  as  possible  for  the  young 


84  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

man :  he  brought  him  lunch  and  dinner  which  Fine  herself 
prepared ;  he  lent  him  books,  and  had  even  given  him  an 
additional  rug.  The  cell  had  been  made  habitable,  and 
Philippe  was  not  too  uncomfortable  there.  He  knew, 
moreover,  that  they  were  working  for  his  escape.  He 
woke  up  and  held  out  his  hands  effusively  to  his  brother 
and  the  flower-girl. 

"  You  have  come  for  me  ?  "  he  asked  smiling. 

"Yes,"  answered  Fine.     "Dress  yourself  at  once." 

Marius  remained  silent.  His  heart  was  beating  quickly. 
He  feared  that  a  strong  desire  for  liberty  might  lead  his 
brother  to  accept  the  means  of  flight  which  he  himself 
had  thought  right  to  decline. 

"So  everything  is  agreed  and  arranged?"  resumed 
Philippe.  "  I  may  go  off  without  fear  or  regret  ?  You 
have  paid  the  promised  amount  ?  You  don't  answer  me, 
Marius." 

Fine  hastened  to  intervene. 

"  Haven't  I  told  you  to  make  haste  ?  "  she  cried.  "  What 
are  you  troubling  yourself  about  ?  " 

She  threw  him  his  clothes,  and  added  that  she  would 
wait  in  the  passage.  Marius  stopped  her. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said,  "I  cannot  leave  my  brother  in 
ignorance  of  our  misfortunes." 

And,  in  spite  of  Fine's  impatience,  he  related  again  the 
result  of  his  journey  to  Marseilles.  He,  however,  gave  his 
brother  no  advice  but  left  him  at  full  liberty  to  come  to 
a  decision  himself. 

"So  then,"  exclaimed  Philippe,  completely  crushed, 
"  you've  not  given  the  money  to  the  gaoler,  and  we're 
without  a  copper  ?  " 

"Don't  worry  yourself  about  that,"  replied  Revertegat, 
drawing  nearer.  "  You  can  help  me  later  on." 

The  prisoner  said  nothing.  He  was  no  longer  thinking 
of  his  escape,  his  thoughts  were  centered  on  his  poverty, 
on  the  sorry  figure  he  would  henceforth  cut,  once  he  was 
at  liberty.  No  more  smart  clothes,  no  more  strolls  in 
fashionable  haunts,  no  more  love  adventures.  But  besides 
all  this  he  had  some  chivalrous  feelings,  some  poetical 
ideas  which  forbade  him  accepting  Revertegat's  sacrifice. 


PHILIPPE   REFUSES  TO  SAVE   HIMSELF.  85 

He  lay  back  on  his  miserable  bed,  drew  the  clothes  up 
to  his  chin,  and  said  quietly : 

"Very  well,  I  shall  stay  where  I  am." 

Marius's  face  beamed.  Fine  looked  overwhelmed.  She 
tried  to  prove  the  necessity  for  the  escape,  she  spoke  of 
the  public  exhibition,  of  the  infamy  of  the  pillory.  She 
grew  excited  and  looked  superb  in  her  passion,  and  Philippe 
gazed  at  her  admiringly, 

"My  beautiful  child,"  he  replied,  "you  might  succeed 
in  making  me  yield  if  I  had  not  grown  blind  and  obstinate 
in  this  cell.  But  really  I  have  done  enough  mean  things 
already  without  wishing  to  burden  my  conscience  with 
any  more.  We  are  in  the  hands  of  Providence.  Moreover, 
all  is  not  yet  lost.  Marius  will  free  me;  he'll  find  the 
money  somehow,  you  see  if  he  don't.  You  shall  come 
and  fetch  me  when  you've  paid  my  ransom.  And  we'll 
fly  together,  and  I'll  give  you  a  kiss ' 

He  spoke  almost  gaily.     Marius  took  his  hand. 

"Thanks,  brother,"  he  said.     "Be  of  good  cheer." 

Fine  and  Revertegat  went  out,  whilst  Philippe  and 
Marius  remained  alone  a  few  minutes.  They  had  some 
serious  and  affecting  conversation:  they  spoke  of  Blanche, 
and  the  child  she  was  expecting.  When  the  visitors  were 
back  in  the  gaoler's  room,  the  flower-girl  in  despair,  asked 
Marius  what  he  thought  of  doing. 

I  shall  make  some  further  efforts,"  he  replied.  "  Unfor- 
tunately we  have  not  much  time,  and  I  scarcely  know 
where  to  seek  assistance." 

"  I  am  give  you  a  piece  of  advice"  observed  Revertegat. 
"  There's  a  banker  in  this  town,  living  close  by  here,  named 
Rostand,  who  would  perhaps  consent  to  lend  you  a  con- 
siderable sum.  But  I  must  warn  you  that  this  Rostand 
has  the  reputation  of  being  an  usurer." 

Marius  had  not  the  choice  of  means. 

"Thanks,"  he  said.     "  I  will  call  on  the  man  to-morrow." 


86  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  USURERS. 

M.  ROSTAND  was  a  clever  man.  He  pursued  his  shameful 
calling  undisturbed.  To  give  an  honest  appearance  to 
his  trade,  he  had  opened  a  banking-house;  and  having 
paid  for  the  license,  he  was  legally  established.  At  times, 
he  could  even  be  a  trifle  honest,  and  would  lend  money 
at  the  same  rate  of  interest  as  the  other  bankers  of  the 
town.  But  there  was,  so  to  say,  a  back  office  in  his 
establishment,  wherein  he  took  delight  in  elaborating  his 
knavish  schemes. 

Six  months  after  the  opening  of  his  bank,  he  became 
the  managing  director  of  a  company  of  usurers,  a  black 
band  which  entrusted  him  with  certain  funds  for  invest- 
ment. The  combination  was  of  a  simplicity  quite  patriarchal. 
People  endowed  with  the  bump  of  usury,  and  who  feared 
to  indulge  their  propensity  at  their  own  risk  and  peril, 
brought  him  their  money  and  requested  him  to  turn  it 
to  good  account.  By  these  means  he  always  had  a 
considerable  capital  to  turn  over,  and  was  enabled  to  take 
full  advantage  of  needy  borrowers. 

Those  who  furnished  the  money  remained  in  the  back- 
ground. He  had  solemnly  undertaken  to  lend  at  a  fabulous 
rate  of  interest,  at  fifty,  sixty  and  even  eighty  per  cent. 
The  sleeping  partners  met  at  his  office  once  a  month,  he 
produced  his  accounts,  and  they  shared  the  spoil.  But 
he  so  arranged  matters  as  to  keep  the  larger  share  for 
himself — in  fact,  he  robbed  the  robbers. 

It  was  especially  against  the  small  traders  that  he  directed 
his  operations.  When  a  shopkeeper  came  to  see  him  the 
day  before  a  payment  fell  due,  he  imposed  most  exorbitant 
terms.  The  tradesman  invariably  accepted  them;  and  in 
this  way  he  had  brought  about  more  than  fifty  failures  in 
ten  years.  Moreover,  all  was  fish  that  came  to  his  net ; 
he  would  as  soon  lend  five  francs  to  a  market-woman  as 
a  thousand  to  a  cattle-dealer;  he  kept  a  sharp  look-out, 
and  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  investing  ten  francs  one 


THE   USURERS.  87 

day  to  receive  twelve  the  next.  He  was  on  the  watch 
for  noble  youths,  fast  young  men  who  fling  their  money 
out  of  window;  he  filled  their  hands  with  gold,  so  that 
they  might  throw  the  more,  and  he  stood  outside  to  pick 
up  what  they  threw.  He  also  took  trips  into  the  country 
and  tempted  the  peasants;  when  the  crops  failed  he  dispos- 
sessed them  piece  by  piece  of  their  land  and  farms. 

His  house  had  thus  become  a  veritable  pit-fall  which 
swallowed  up  whole  fortunes.  The  individuals,  the  entire 
families  he  had  ruined  were  well-known.  No  one  was 
ignorant  of  his  underhand  dealings.  His  sleeping  partners 
were  pointed  at  in  the  streets,  wealthy  men,  ex-officials, 
merchants  and  even  workmen.  But  proof  was  lacking. 
His  banker's  license  shielded  him,  and  he  was  too  clever 
to  allow  himself  to  be  caught  napping. 

Since  he  had  first  started  his  nefarious  speculations, 
Rostand  had  only  once  found  himself  in  danger.  The 
affair  created  a  great  sensation.  A  lady  belonging  to  a 
wealthy  family  borrowed  a  rather  large  sum  of  him ;  she 
was  very  pious  and  had  bereft  herself  of  her  fortune  by 
giving  money  in  charity  on  all  sides.  Knowing  that  she 
was  completely  without  means,  he  insisted  upon  her  signing 
bills  with  her  brother's  name.  Having  these  forgeries  in 
his  possession,  he  was  certain  of  being  paid  by  the  brother, 
who  would  be  anxious  to  avoid  a  scandal.  The  poor  lady 
signed  as  required.  Charity  had  ruined  her,  and  the  weak 
kindliness  of  her  nature  brought  about  her  fall. 

His  calculations  turned  out  correct,  and  the  first  bills 
were  paid ;  but  as  more  and  more  were  presented,  the 
brother  grew  tired  of  paying  and  determined  to  get  to  the 
bottom  of  the  matter.  He  called  on  Rostand  and  threat- 
ened to  expose  him ;  he  said  that  he  would  sooner  see 
his  sister  disgraced  than  allow  himself  to  be  further  robbed 
with  impunity  by  such  a  scoundrel.  The  usurer,  thoroughly 
cowed,  gave  up  the  bills  he  still  possessed.  He  did  not, 
however,  lose  a  copper  on  the  transaction,  having  advanced 
the  loan  at  cent  per  cent. 

Since  then,  Rostand  had  been  extremely  careful.  He 
invested  the  capital  of  the  black  band  with  a  skill  which 
won  him  the  admiration  and  confidence  of  the  usurers. 


88  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

Whilst  his  sleeping  partners  were  airing  themselves  in 
the  sunshine,  like  worthy  people  who  would  never  rob 
a  soul,  he  remained  buried  in  a  great  dark  office :  it  was 
there  that  the  golden  coins  of  the  concern  grew  and 
multiplied. 

Rostand  had  ended  by  acquiring  quite  an  affection  for 
his  fraudulent  and  thievish  trade.  Some  members  of  the 
band  applied  their  profits  to  satisfying  their  passions,  their 
appetites  for  luxurious  and  dissolute  living.  He  took  his 
sole  delight  in  being  a  clever  rascal;  he  felt  as  much 
interest  in  each  of  his  operations  as  if  it  had  been  a 
drama  or  a  comedy  he  was  witnessing;  he  applauded  him- 
self when  his  plans  succeeded,  and  he  then  felt  the  pride, 
the  joy  of  a  successful  author;  then  he  spread  out  on  a 
table  the  money  he  had  stolen  and  lost  himself  in  all  the 
voluptuous  sensations  of  the  miser. 

It  was  to  such  a  man  that  Revertegat  had  naively  sent 
Marius. 

The  latter  knocked  at  Rostand's  door  on  the  following 
morning  towards  eight  o'clock.  It  was  a  heavy  square 
house,  and  the  closed  shutters  gave  it  a  bare  cold  appear- 
ance, an  air  of  mystery  and  mistrust.  A  toothless  old 
waiting-woman,  attired  in  a  dirty,  ragged,  cotton  gown, 
opened  the  door  a  few  inches. 

"  M.  Rostand  ?  "  asked  Marius. 

"He  is  in,  but  engaged,"  replied  the  servant,  without 
opening  the  door  any  wider. 

The  young  man,  losing  patience,  pushed  the  door  open 
and  entered  the  hall. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  "I'll  wait." 

Surprised  and  scarcely  knowing  what  to  do,  the  servant, 
seeing  she  could  not  get  rid  of  him,  took  him  up  to  the 
first  floor,  and  left  him  by  himself  in  a  kind  of  ante- 
room. It  was  a  small  dark  apartment  hung  with  green- 
ish wall  paper,  discoloured  by  large  damp  stains.  The 
only  furniture  consisted  in  a  rush-bottomed  chair,  upon 
which  Marius  seated  himself.  Opposite  him,  an  open 
door  showed  the  interior  of  an  office  in  which  a  clerk  was 
writing  with  a  quill  pen,  which  made  a  grating  noise  as 
it  travelled  over  the  paper.  There  was  another  door  on 


THE   USURERS.  89 

his  left  which  probably  led  to  the  banker's  private  room. 

Marius  waited  a  long  time.  The  stale  smell  of  old 
papers  pervaded  the  atmosphere  around  him.  The  apart- 
ment was  sickeningly  dirty,  and  the  nakedness  of  the 
walls  gave  it  a  lugubrious  appearance.  Dust  was  accumu- 
lated in  all  the  corners,  and  cobwebs  hung  from  the  ceil- 
ing. The  young  man  was  suffocating  and  getting  out  of 
patience  with  the  grating  of  the  quill  pen  which  kept  on 
increasing.  Suddenly  he  heard  voices  in  the  adjoining 
room  and,  as  the  words  reached  him  clear  and  distinct, 
he  was  on  the  point  of  discreetly  moving  further  off, 
when  certain  expressions  rooted  him  to  the  spot. 

There  are  some  conversations  which  it  is  permissible 
to  overhear,  scrupulousness  not  being  intended  as  a  safe- 
guard of  the  privacy  of  certain  people.  A  harsh  voice, 
no  doubt  that  of  the  master  of  the  house,  was  saying  with 
friendly  bluntness: 

"  Gentlemen,  we  are  all  here,  let's  talk  business.  The 
sitting  is  open.  I  will  render  you  a  faithful  account  of 
my  operations  of  the  month,  and  we  will  then  proceed 
to  the  division  of  the  profits. " 

There  was  slight  noise,  a  sound  of  private  conversations 
dying  away.  Marius,  who  so  far  had  not  understood, 
felt  nevertheless  a  lively  curiosity:  he  guessed  that  some 
strange  scene  was  taking  place  on  the  other  side  of  the 
door.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  usurer  Rostand  was 
closeted  with  his  worthy  associates  of  the  black  band. 

The  young  man  had  called  just  at  the  time  of  their 
meeting,  when  the  managing  director  was  about  to  produce 
his  accounts,  explain  his  operations,  and  divide  the  spoil. 
The  harsh  voice  continued : 

"  Before  entering  into  details,  I  must  inform  you  that 
this  month's  results  are  not  so  good  as  last  month's. 
We  then  had  an  average  of  sixty  per  cent.,  to-day  we 
have  only  fifty-five." 

Various  exclamations  arose,  similar  to  the  protesting 
murmurs  of  a  dissatisfied  crowd.  There  must  have  been 
about  fifteen  persons  in  the  room. 

"Gentlemen,"  continued  Rostand,  with  bitter  raillery, 
"  I  have  done  what  I  could  and  you  ought  to  thank  me. 


go  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

The  business  becomes  more  difficult  every  day.  How- 
ever, here  are  my  accounts  and  I  will  give  you  a  rapid 
statement  of  some  of  the  affairs  I  have  transacted." 

Complete  silence  ensued  for  a  few  seconds.  Then  there 
was  a  rustling  of  paper  and  the  sound  of  the  leaves  of  a 
ledger  being  turned  over.  Marius,  beginning  to  under- 
stand, listened  more  attentively  than  ever.  Rostand 
commenced  to  go  over  his  various  operations,  giving  some 
explanations  as  to  each  one.  He  spoke  in  the  sing-song 
voice  of  a  court  official. 

"I  lent,"  he  said,  "ten  thousand  francs  to  young  Count 
de  Salvy,  a  youth  of  twenty,  who  will  attain  his  majority 
in  nine  months'  time.  He  had  lost  at  play,  and  his 
mistress,  it  seems,  required  a  large  amount  from  him. 
He  signed  bills  at  three  months  for  eighteen  thousand 
francs.  These  bills  are  post-dated  the  day  of  his  majority, 
so  as  to  make  all  secure.  The  family  owns  large  estates. 
It's  an  excellent  affair." 

A  flattering  murmur  greeted  the  usurer's  words. 

"  On  the  morrow,"  he  continued,  "  I  received  a  visit 
from  the  count's  mistress,  who  was  exasperated,  her  lover 
only  having  given  her  two  or  three  thousand-franc  notes. 
She  swore  that  she  would  bring  me  the  count  bound 
hand  and  foot  to  negotiate  a  fresh  loan.  I  shall  then 
require  the  ,  assignment  of  one  of  his  estates.  We  have 
still  nine  months  to  shear  the  young  fool,  whom  his  mother 
leaves  without  money." 

Rostand  turned  over  some  leaves  of  the  ledger,  and 
resumed,  after  a  short  silence : 

"Jourdier — a  cloth  merchant,  who  each  month  requires 
a  few  hundred  francs  to  meet  his  bills.  At  the  present 
time  his  business  belongs  almost  entirely  to  us.  I  last 
lent  him  five  hundred  francs  at  sixty  per  cent.  If  he 
asks  for  anything  next  month,  I'll  make  him  bankrupt 
and  we  shall  take  the  whole  of  his  stock. 

"  Marianne — a  market-woman.  Every  morning  she  wants 
ten  francs,  and  every  evening  she  returns  me  fifteen.  I 
fancy  she  drinks.  It's  a  small  affair,  but  a  certain  profit, 
a  fixed  income  of  five  francs  a  day. 

"  Laurent — a   peasant  of  the  Roquefavour  district.     He 


THE   USURERS.  91 

has  made  over  to  me,  piece  by  piece,  some  land  he 
owned  near  Arc.  The  ground  is  worth  five  thousand 
francs,  and  has  only  cost  us  two  thousand.  I  had  the 
man  evicted  from  the  place,  and  his  wife  and  children 
came  here  and  made  quite  a  scene.  You'll  take  into 
account,  I  hope,  these  annoyances  I  have  to  put  up  with  ? 

"Andre — a  miller.  He  owed  us  eight  hundred  francs, 
and  I  threatened  him  with  an  execution.  He  hurried 
here  and  implored  me  not  to  ruin  him  by  letting  every- 
one know  of  his  insolvency.  I  consented  to  effect  the 
seizure  myself,  without  employing  a  bailiff,  and  by  that 
means  I  obtained  over  twelve  hundred  francs'  worth  of 
furniture  and  linen.  I  made  quite  four  hundred  francs 
by  being  good-natured." 

A  tremor  of  satisfaction  passed  through  his  colleagues. 
Marius  could  hear  the  smothered  laughter  of  those  men 
who  were  rejoicing  at  Rostand's  cleverness.  The  latter 
continued : 

"  Now  for  the  simple  cases :  three  thousand  francs  at 
forty  per  cent,  to  the  merchant  Simon ;  fifteen  hundred 
francs  at  fifty  per  cent,  to  Charancon,  the  cattle-dealer; 
two  thousand  francs  at  eighty  per  cent,  to  the  Marquis 
de  Cantarel ;  one  hundred  francs  at  thirty-five  per  cent, 
to  the  son  of  Tingrey  the  notary — 

And  Rostand  went  on  thus  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
reading  out  names  and  figures,  mentioning  loans  varying 
from  ten  francs  to  ten  thousand,  and  interest  from  twenty 
to  one  hundred  per  cent. 

"But  what  were  you  telling  us,  my  dear  friend?"  asked 
a  thick  husky  voice,  when  he  had  finished.  "  You  have 
worked  wonderfully  well  this  last  month.  All  these  assets 
are  excellent.  It  is  impossible  for  the  profit  not  to  average 
more  than  fifty-five  per  cent.  You  no  doubt  made  a 
mistake  when  you  mentioned  that  figure." 

"I  never  make  a  mistake,"  the  usurer  curtly  answered. 

Marius,  who  had  almost  placed  his  ear  against  the  door, 
thought  he  noticed  some  hesitation  in  the  wretch's  voice. 

"  I  have  not  yet  told  you  everything,"  Rostand  continued 
with  embarrassment.  "  We  lost  twelve  thousand  francs,  a 
week  ago." 


92  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

These  words  created  quite  an  uproar,  and  Marius  hoped, 
for  a  moment,  that  the  scoundrels  would  set  upon  one 
another. 

"Hang  it  all!  listen  to  me,"  cried  the  banker,  amid  the 
tumult.  "  I  help  you  to  make  enough  money  for  you  to 
excuse  me  if  you  lose  some  once  in  a  way.  Besides,  it 
wasn't  my  fault.  I  was  robbed." 

He  uttered  these  words  with  all  the  indignation  of  an 
honest  man.  When  quiet  was  restored,  he  added : 

"  Here's  the  whole  story — Monier,  a  corn-dealer  and 
a  solvent  man,  about  whom  I  had  obtained  reliable  infor- 
mation, came  to  borrow  twelve  thousand  francs.  I  said 
I  could  not  lend  them  myself,  but  that  I  knew  an  old 
skinflint  who  would  perhaps  advance  the  money  at  exorbitant 
interest.  He  called  again  the  next  day  and  told  me  that 
he  was  ready  to  agree  to  any  conditions.  I  told  him  that 
five  thousand  francs  interest  for  six  months  was  required. 
He  agreed. 

"  You  see,  it  was  as  good  as  a  gold  mine.  Whilst  I 
went  to  fetch  the  cash,  he  sat  down  at  my  table  and 
wrote  out  seventeen  bills  of  a  thousand  francs  each.  I 
examined  them  and  placed  them  on  the  corner  of  this 
desk.  Then  I  conversed  a  few  minutes  with  Monier  who 
got  up,  and,  after  putting  his  money  away,  prepared  to 
leave. 

"  When  he  was  gone,  I  took  the  documents  to  put  them 
in  a  place  of  safety.  But  just  fancy,  the  rogue  had  changed 
the  bills  for  a  similar  bundle  of  worthless  ones,  scribbled 
all  over,  payable  to  the  deuce  knows  who,  and  unsigned. 
I  was  robbed,  and  nearly  had  a  fit.  I  ran  after  the  swindler 
whom  I  found  strolling  along  the  Cours  in  the  sunshine.  At 
the  first  word  I  uttered,  he  called  me  an  usurer  and 
threatened  me  with  the  police  commissary.  That  Monier 
has  the  reputation  of  being  a  loyal  and  upright  man,  and 
so,  upon  reflection,  I  preferred  to  hold  my  tongue." 

This  story  had  been  several  times  interrupted  by  the 
angry  remarks  of  the  listeners. 

"  You  must  admit,  Rostand,  that  you  have  been  wanting 
in  energy,"  observed  the  husky  voice.  "Well,  we've  lost 
our  money,  and  will  only  get  fifty-five  per  cent.  Another 


THE   USURERS.  Q3 

time,  you  must  look  after  our  interests  better.     Now  we'll 
divide  the  profits." 

In  spite  of  his  anguish  and  indignation,  Marius  could 
not  help  smiling.  Monier's  robbery  was  like  a  grand 
piece  of  comedy,  and  in  his  heart  he  applauded  the  knave 
who  had  cheated  a  knave.  He  now  knew  the  trade 
Rostand  followed.  He  had  not  lost  a  word  of  what  had 
been  said  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  he  easily  pictured 
to  himself  the  scene  that  had  been  passing  there. 

Leaning  back  on  his  chair,  his  ear  close  to  the  door, 
he  could  see  in  his  mind's  eye  the  usurers  quarrelling  among 
themselves,  with  eager  looks  and  faces  contracted  by  the 
evil  passions  which  were  agitating  them. 

He  felt  a  kind  of  bitter  mirth  when  he  thought  of  his 
reason  for  coming  to  that  thieves'  den.  What  simplicity, 
good  heavens !  It  was  there  he  had  thought  to  obtain  the 
fifteen  thousand  francs  which  were  to  save  Philippe,  and 
he  had  been  waiting  an  hour  for  the  banker  to  turn  him 
out  like  a  beggar.  Or  else  Rostand  would  demand  fifty 
per  cent,  interest  and  rob  him  impudently.  At  that  thought, 
and  with  the  knowledge  that  there  was  there,  close  to  him,  a 
meeting  of  rascals  who  throve  on  the  shame  and  misfortunes 
of  a  town,  he  jumped  up  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  door- 
handle. One  could  hear  the  clink  of  gold  within  the  room. 

The  usurers  were  dividing  their  spoil.  Each  one  was 
pocketing  his  share  of  a  month's  swindling.  That  money, 
which  they  were  counting  and  whose  music  voluptuously 
titillated  their  flesh,  seemed  at  times  to  sob  aloud  amidst 
the  quivering  silence,  broken  only  by  the  banker's  voice 
uttering  figures  with  metallic  harshness.  He  calculated 
each  one's  share,  named  an  amount  and  let  fall  a  pile  of 
jingling  coins. 

Marius  turned  the  handle,  and,  with  pale  face  and 
resolute  gaze,  stood  a  few  seconds  silent  in  the  doorway. 

The  young  man  had  a  strange  spectacle  before  him. 
Rostand  was  standing  at  his  table ;  behind  him  was  an 
open  safe  from  which  he  took  handsful  of  gold.  Around 
the  table  were  seated  the  members  of  the  black  band, 
some  awaiting  their  share,  others  pocketing  the  money 
they  had  just  received.  Every  minute,  the  banker  consulted 


94  THE-  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

his  accounts,  examining  a  ledger,  and  doled  out  the  money 
with  a  careful  hand.  His  confederates  were  watching  his 
movements. 

At  the  sound  of  the  opening  door,  all  the  heads  turned 
quickly  round  with  fright.  And,  when  they  beheld  Marius, 
grave  and  indignant,  they  instinctively  closed  their  fingers 
on  their  heaps  of  gold. 

For  a  moment  all  was  confusion  and  apprehension. 
The  young  man  recognised  the  wretches  perfectly.  He 
had  met  them  in  the  streets  with  heads  erect  and  dignified 
miens,  and  he  had  even  bowed  to  some  who  might  have 
saved  his  brother.  They  were  all  wealthy,  esteemed,  and 
influential ;  there  were  among  them  ex-government  officials, 
landed  proprietors,  and  persons  who  frequented  the  churches 
and  drawing-rooms  of  the  town.  To  see  them  thus,  cringing 
and  paling  beneath  his  gaze,  he  could  not  restrain  a 
movement  of  disgust. 

Rostand  rushed  forward,  his  eyes  blinking  feverishly, 
his  thick  discoloured  lips  trembling,  all  his  miser's  red 
and  wrinkled  face  expressing  a  sort  of  scared  surprise. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked  Marius  stammering. 
"You  have  no  right  to  walk  into  a  house  in  this  manner." 

"  I  wanted  fifteen  thousand  francs,"  replied  the  young 
man,  in  a  cold  and  scoffing  tone  of  voice. 

"I've  no  money,"  the  usurer  hastened  to  say,  retreating 
to  the  door  of  his  safe. 

"  Oh !  be  easy,  I  no  longer  wish  to  be  robbed.  I  must 
tell  you  that  I've  been  waiting  an  hour  on  the  other  side 
of  the  door  and  have  heard  all  you've  been  saying." 

This  statement  came  like  the  blow  of  a  club,  and 
caused  the  members  of  the  black  band  to  bow  their  heads. 
These  men  had  still  some  slight  feeling  of  respectability 
left,  and  there  were  some  who  hid  their  faces  in  their 
hands.  Rostand,  having  no  reputation  to  lose,  gradually 
recovered  himself.  He  again  went  up  to  Marius,  and 
raised  his  voice. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  cried.  "By  what  right  do  you 
come  into  my  house  listening  at  doors  ?  Why  do  you  come 
into  my  private  office,  if  you  have  nothing  to  ask  of  me  ?  " 

"  Who   am    I  ?  "    said  the  young  man,  in  a  calm,  quiet 


THE  USURERS.  Q5 

tone,  "  I  am  an  honest  man  and  you  are  a  rascal.  By 
what  right  did  I  listen  at  this  door?  By  the  right  that 
respectable  people  have  of  unmasking  scoundrels.  Why 
have  I  come  in  here?  Simply  to  tell  you  that  you  are 
a  villain." 

Rostand  was  trembling  with  rage.  He  could  not  account 
for  the  presence  of  this  avenger  who  thus  told  him  the 
truth  to  his  face.  He  was  about  to  shout  out,  to  fall 
upon  Marius,  when  the  latter  energetically  motioned  him 
back. 

"Keep  quiet,"  he  resumed.  "I  am  going,  I  am  stifling 
here.  But  I  would  not  go  without  relieving  my  feelings 
a  bit.  Ah !  gentlemen,  you  have  a  voracious  appetite. 
You  gluttonously  share  among  you  the  tears  and  despair 
of  entire  families;  you  gorge  yourselves  with  robbery  and 
swindling.  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  trouble  your  digestion 
a  trifle  and  to  make  you  shiver  with  anxiety." 

Rostand  attempted  to  stop  him,  but  he  continued  in  a 
louder  tone  of  voice : 

"  Highwaymen  possess  at  least  courage.  They  fight 
and  risk  their  lives.  But  you,  gentlemen,  you  rob  shamelessly 
in  secret.  And  to  think  that  it  was  not  necessary  for 
you  to  become  swindlers  to  live !  You  are  every  one  of 
you  well-to-do.  You  behave  like  scoundrels,  heaven 
forgive  me!  for  pleasure!" 

Some  of  the  usurers  rose  menacingly. 

"  You've  never  before  seen  the  anger  of  an  honest  man, 
have  you?  "  added  Marius,  scoffingly.  "  Truth  both  annoys 
and  frightens  you.  You're  accustomed  to  be  treated  with 
the  respect  due  to  decent  people,  and,  as  you  have  arranged 
to  hide  your  baseness  and  to  live  esteemed  by  all,  you 
have  ended  by  yourselves  believing  in  the  respect  accorded 
to  your  hypocrisy.  Well!  I've  chosen  that  for  once  in 
your  lives  you  should  be  insulted  as  you  deserve,  and 
that's  why  I  entered  here." 

The  young  men  saw  that  they  would  fall  upon  him  if 
he  went  on.  He  retreated  step  by  step  towards  the  door, 
keeping  the  usurers  at  bay  by  the  firmness  of  his  gaze. 
Once  there,  he  stopped  again. 

"I  know  very  well,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "that  I  cannot 


96  THE   MYSTERIES    OF   MARSEILLES. 

bring  you  to  the  bar  of  human  justice.  Your  wealth, 
your  influence,  and  your  skill  render  you  inviolable.  If  I 
were  foolish  enough  to  fight  against  you,  it  is  I,  no  doubt, 
who  would  be  crushed.  But,  anyhow,  I  shall  not  have 
to  reproach  myself  with  having  been  in  the  company  of 
such  men  as  you  without  having  shewn  them  my  con- 
tempt. I  would  that  my  words  were  red-hot  irons 
that  would  brand  you  on  your  faces.  The  crowd  would 
follow  you  with  its  howls,  and  perhaps  the  lesson  would 
do  you  good.  Share  your  gold :  if  there's  an  atom  of 
honesty  left  in  you,  it  will  burn  your  hands." 

Marius  closed  the  door  and  went  off.  When  he  reached 
the  street,  he  smiled  sadly.  He  saw  life  spread  out  before 
him  in  all  its  shame  and  wretchedness,  and  perceived 
he  was  performing  the  noble  and  ridiculous  part  of  a  Don 
Quixote  of  justice  and  honour. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 
TWO   SHAMELESS   CHARACTERS. 

WHEN  Marius  had  related  his  adventure  to  the  gaoler 
and  flower-girl,  the  latter  exclaimed: 

"  We're  no  better  off  than  we  were!  Why  did  you  lose 
your  temper?  That  man  might  have  lent  you  the  money." 

Women  possess  a  certain  obstinacy  which  renders  the 
feminine  conscience  easier ;  therefore  Fine,  loyal  girl  though 
she  was,  would  perhaps  have  closed  her  ears  at  Rostand's, 
or  even  have  made  use  of  the  secrets  chance  placed  in 
her  possession.  Revertegat  felt  rather  ashamed  at  having 
advised  Marius  to  go  to  the  banker. 

"I  warned  you,  sir,"  he  said;  "I  was  aware  of  the 
rumours  afloat  about  the  man;  but  I  thought  a  great 
deal  was  said  out  of  spite.  Had  I  known  the  real  truth 
I  would  never  have  sent  you  to  him." 

Marius  and  Fine  spent  the  afternoon  in  forming 
extravagant  plans,  in  cudgelling  their  brains  in  vain  for 
a  means  of  obtaining  the  fifteen  thousand  francs  necessary 
for  Philippe's  safety. 


TWO   SHAMELESS  CHARACTERS.  97 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  the  young  woman,  "  can't  we 
find  in  all  this  town  some  kind  soul  willing  to  help  us 
out  of  our  trouble  ?  Are  there  no  rich  people  here  who 
would  lend  their  money  at  a  reasonable  rate?  Come, 
uncle,  think  a  bit.  Tell  me  of  some  benevolent  person 
whom  I  may  go  and  plead  to  on  my  knees." 

Revertegat  shook  his  head. 

"Well,  yes!"  he  replied,  "  there  are  worthy  people  here, 
rich  folk  who  would  perhaps  assist  you.  But  you  have 
no  claim  on  their  bounty,  you  can't  go  and  ask  them 
for  money  right  off.  You  must  apply  to  money-lenders 
or  bill-discounters,  and,  as  you've  no  solid  security  to 
offer,  you're  obliged  to  deal  with  usurers.  Oh !  I  know 
some  old  misers,  old  rascals  who'd  be  delighted  to  have 
you  in  their  clutches,  or  else  would  chuck  you  out  like 
dangerous  beggars." 

As  Fine  listened  to  her  uncle,  all  these  money  questions 
got  rather  mixed  in  her  young  head.  She  was  so  frank, 
so  open-hearted,  that  it  seemed  to  her  quite  natural 
and  easy  to  ask  for  and  obtain  a  large  sum  in  a  couple 
of  hours.  There  are  millionaires  who  can  so  easily  dispose 
of  a  few  thousand  francs  without  inconveniencing  them- 
selves. She  therefore  persisted. 

"Come,  think  well,"  she  said  again,  to  the  gaoler.  "Do 
you  really  know  of  nobody  we  might  apply  to  ?  " 

Revertegat,  greatly  affected,  looked  at  her  anxious  face, 
He  would  rather  not  have  laid  bare  the  unsavoury  realities 
of  life  before  this  young  creature,  full  of  the  hopes  of 
youth. 

"  No,  really,"  he  replied,  "  I  know  of  no  one.  I  have 
spoken  to  you  of  old  rascals  who  have  shamelessly  made 
large  fortunes.  They,  like  Rostand,  lend  a  hundred  francs 
to  receive  a  hundred  and  fifty  at  the  end  of  three  months." 

He  hesitated,  and  then  went  on  in  a  lower  tone  of 
voice:  "Shall  I  relate  to  you  the  history  of  one  of  these 
men?  His  name  is  Roumieu,  and  he's  a  retired  notary. 
His  game  was  to  prosecute  a  terrible  chase  after  inheri- 
tances. He  would  introduce  himself  into  families,  where 
his  calling  should  have  made  him  a  confidant  and  friend, 
and  there  study  the  ground  and  prepare  his  ambuscades. 


9  8  THE   MYSTERIES    OF   MARSEILLES. 

Whenever  he  came  across  a  weak-minded  person  who 
had  property  to  leave,  he  became  his  creature,  circumvented 
him,  and  drew  him  gradually  into  his  meshes  by  obse- 
quiousness and  blandishments,  by  quite  a  clever  comedy 
of  little  attentions  and  filial  tenderness.  Ah !  he  was  a 
clever  fellow !  You  should  have  seen  him  fascinate  his 
prey,  making  himself  supple  and  winning,  gaining  a  hold 
on  the  affections  of  some  old  man.  He  ousted  the  natural 
heirs,  the  nephews  and  cousins,  by  degrees,  and  then  drew 
up  a  new  will  which  despoiled  them  of  their  relative's 
fortune  and  appointed  him  sole  legatee.  But  he  never 
hurried  matters,  he  would  take  ten  years  to  reach  his 
goal,  to  mature  things  thoroughly;  he  advanced  with 
feline  craftiness,  creeping  along  in  the  dark,  never  springing 
upon  his  prey  until  it  lay  panting,  rendered  inert  by  his 
gaze  and  caresses.  He  hunted  inheritances  like  the  tiger 
hunts  game,  with  noiseless  cruelty  and  a  ferocity  hidden 
behind  smirks  and  smiles." 

Fine  fancied  she  was  being  told  a  story  out  of  the 
Arabian  Nights.  She  listened  to  her  uncle,  her  eyes  wide 
open  with  astonishment.  Marius  was  becoming  familiar 
with  base  actions. 

"  And  you  say  this  man  made  a  large  fortune  ? "  he 
asked  the  gaoler. 

"Yes,"  the  latter  replied.  "There  are  some  strange 
stories  told  which  prove  Roumieu's  amazing  cleverness. 
For  instance,  ten  or  fifteen  years  ago,  he  worked  his  way 
into  the  good  graces  of  an  old  lady  who  possessed  a 
fortune  of  close  upon  five  hundred  thousand  francs.  It 
was  quite  a  conquest.  The  old  lady  became  his  slave, 
almost  to  the  point  of  refusing  herself  a  crust  of  bread  in 
order  not  to  encroach  upon  the  wealth  she  wished  to 
leave  to  this  demon,  who  possessed  her  like  a  devil  and 
obtained  complete  mastery  over  her.  She  was  indeed 
possessed  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word;  all  the  holy 
water  of  a  church  would  not  have  been  sufficient  to  cast 
him  out.  A  visit  from  Roumieu  would  plunge  her  into 
endless  ecstasy.  When  he  bowed  to  her  in  the  street 
it  was  as  though  she  had  received  a  shock,  she  became 
quite  red  with  joy.  One  has  never  been  able  to  understand 


TWO    SHAMELESS   CHARACTERS.  99 

by  what  flattery,  by  what  skilful  and  irresistible  advance 
the  notary  had  been  able  to  penetrate  so  deeply  into  this 
heart  which  was  closed  by  the  most  exaggerated  piety. 
When  the  old  lady  died,  she  despoiled  her  direct  heirs 
and  left  her  five  hundred  thousand  francs  to  Roumieu. 
Everybody  expected  this  would  happen." 

After  a  pause,  Revertegat  went  on : 

"  Listen,  I  can  give  you  another  instance.  The  anecdote 
contains  quite  a  cruel  comedy,  in  which  Roumieu  gave 
proof  of  rare  artfulness.  A  man  named  Richard,  who  had 
amassed  several  hundred  thousand  francs  in  business,  retired, 
and  went  to  live  with  a  worth v  couple  who  nursed  him 
and  enlivened  his  old  age.  In  exchange  for  their  affec- 
tionate attentions,  the  retired  merchant  had  promised  to 
leave  them  his  fortune.  They  lived  on  in  this  expectation ; 
they  had  several  children  whom  they  hoped  to  establish 
well  in  life.  But  Roumieu  happened  to  pass  by,  and  soon 
became  Richard's  intimate  friend;  he  would  take  him 
occasionally  into  the  country,  and  secretly  obtained  complete 
mastery  over  him.  The  family  which  had  received  the 
retired  merchant  suspected  nothing;  they  continued  to 
nurse  him  and  await  the  inheritance. 

"  During  fifteen  years  they  lived  thus,  quite  easy  in 
their  minds,  forming  plans  for  the  future,  and  feeling 
certain  of  being  happy  and  rich.  Richard  died,  and  on 
the  morrow  Roumieu  was  found  to  have  inherited  his 
property,  to  the  great  surprise  and  grief  of  this  family, 
swindled  both  in  its  affections  and  its  interest." 

"  Such  is  the  hunter  after  inheritances.  When  he  moves 
one  cannot  hear  the  sound  of  his  claws  upon  the  ground ; 
his  bounds  are  too  rapid  to  be  measured :  he  has  already 
sucked  his  prey  dry  before  ho  has  been  observed  to  be 
upon  it." 

Fine  felt  filled  with  disgust. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  "  I  will  never  go  and  ask  money 
of  such  a  man.  Don't  you  know  another,  uncle?" 

"All  usurers  are  alike,  my  poor  child,"  replied  the 
gaoler;  "they  all  have  some  indelible  stain  on  their  lives. 
I  know  an  old  skinflint  who  has  more  than  a  million, 
and  \vlio  lives  alone  in  a  dirtv  tumble-down  house.  Guil- 


100  THE   MYSTERIES   OF    MARSEILLES. 

laume  buries  himself  out  of  sight  in  his  foul  den.  The 
damp  is  rotting  the  walls;  the  floor  is  not  even  paved, 
but  is  a  sort  of  muck-heap  consisting  of  mud  and  filth; 
cobwebs  hang  from  the  ceiling,  the  dust  lies  thick  over 
everything,  while  a  dull  lugubrious  light  penetrates  through 
the  window-panes  which  are  coated  thick  with  dirt.  The  old 
miser  seems  to  sleep  amidst  impurities,  like  the  waiting 
spider  sleeps  in  the  centre  of  his  web  on  tire  beam. 
When  some  prey  becomes  entangled  in  the  nets  he  has 
spread,  he  draws  it  to  him  and  sucks  it  dry  of  its  life's 
blood.  His  food  consists  solely  of  vegetables  cooked  in 
plain  water,  and  he  never  satisfies  his  hunger.  He  clothes 
himself  in  rags  and  leads  the  life  of  a  leprous  beggar. 
And  all  this  is  for  the  sake  of  keeping  the  money  he  has 
already  accumulated,  and  of  adding  unceasingly  to  his 
store.  He  only  lends  at  cent  per  cent." 

Fine  turned  pale  at  the  picture  her  uncle  was  setting 
before  her. 

"  Guillaume  has  friends,  however,  who  extol  his  piety," 
continued  the  gaoler.  "  He  believes  in  neither  Heaven 
nor  Hell,  and  would  sell  the  Saviour  a  second  time  if  he 
had  the  opportunity;  but  he  has  been  clever  enough  to 
sham  great  devoutness,  and  this  piece  of  acting  has  won 
him  the  esteem  of  certain  narrow  minds.  He  may  be  met 
dragging  himself  about  the  churches,  kneeling  behind  every 
pillar,  using  gallons  of  holy  water. 

"  Inquire  throughout  the  town,  ask  anyone  what  good 
action  this  saintly  person  has  ever  done.  He  worships  the 
Almighty,  it  is  said;  but  he  robs  his  fellow-man.  It's 
impossible  to  name  a  single  creature  he  has  ever  assisted. 
He  lends  at  an  usurious  rate,  he  has  never  given  a  copper 
in  charity.  Were  some  poor  wretch  to  be  dying  at  his 
door,,  he  wouldn't  take  him  a  crust  of  bread  nor  a  glass 
of  water.  If  he  enjoys  any  kind  of  esteem,  it's  because 
he  has  stolen  it,  the  same  as  everything  else  he  possesses." 

Revertegat  stopped  and  looked  at  his  niece,  scarcely 
knowing  whether  he  should  continue. 

"  And  you  would  be  simple  enough  to  apply  to  such  a 
man?"  said  he  at  last.  "I  cannot  tell  you  everything,  I 
cannot  speak  of  his  vices,  for  the  old  scoundrel  has  ignoble 


IN   WHICH   THERE   IS   A   GLIMMER   OF   HOPE.      IOI 

ones.  At  times,  he  forgets  his  avarice  to  satisfy  his  lust. 
There  are  shocking  stories  told  of  him — 

"  Enough !  "  cried  Marius  energetically. 

Fine,  confused  and  dismayed,  bowed  her  head,  having 
lost  all  courage  and  hope. 

"I  see  money  is  too  dear,"  the  young  man  resumed, 
"  and  that  one  must  sell  oneself  to  obtain  it.  Ah !  if  I 
only  had  the  time  to  earn  the  sum  we  require  by  hard 
work !  " 

Then  all  three  remained  silent,  unable  to  find  a  means 
of  salvation. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
IN    WHICH    THERE   IS   A   GLIMMER   OF    HOPE. 

THE  following  morning,  Marius,  urged  on  by  necessity, 
decided  on  calling  on  M.  de  Girousse. 

He  had  been  thinking  of  applying  to  the  old  Count 
ever  since  he  had  been  in  search  of  money,  but  had 
always  refrained  from  doing  so  on  account  of  the  noble- 
man's original  bluntness.  He  felt  ashamed  to  own  his 
poverty  and  blushed  at  the  thought  of  having  to  confess 
to  what  use  he  proposed  putting  the  amount  he  was  asking 
for.  Nothing  seemed  more  painful  to  him  than  to  be 
compelled  to  take  any  third  party  into  his  confidence  in 
regard  to  his  brother's  escape,  and  M.  de  Girousse  frightened 
him  more  than  anyone  else. 

When  the  young  man  called,  the  mansion  was  closed, 
the  Count  having  just  left  for  Lambesc.  His  errand  was 
so  disagreeable  to  him  that  he  was  almost  glad  at  finding 
no  one  at  home.  He  remained  on  the  Cours  irresolute, 
not  daring  to  go  to  Lambesc  and  in  despair  at  being  reduced 
to  inaction. 

As  he  advanced  along  one  of  the  paths  quite  upset  and 
with  his  eyes  wandering  vaguely  about  him,  he  met  Fine. 
It  was  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  flower-girl  with 
her  best  clothes  on,  had  a  small  travelling  bag  in  her  hand 
and  appeared  all  smiles  and  determination. 


102  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

"Where  are  you  off  to?"  he  inquired,  with  surprise. 

"I  am  going  to  Marseilles,"  she  answered. 

He  looked  at  her  curiously,  asking  for  an  explanation 
with  his  eyes. 

"I  can  tell  you  nothing,"  she  continued.  "I  have  a 
plan,  but  am  afraid  of  failure.  I  shall  return  to-night. 
Come,  never  despair  !  " 

Marius  accompanied  Fine  to  the  diligence.  When  the 
heavy  vehicle  set  out,  he  followed  it  for  a  long  time  with 
his  eyes ;  this  carriage  bore  away  his  last  hope  and  would 
bring  him  back  joy  or  anguish.  Up  to  the  evening  he 
watched  all  the  diligences  coming  in,  until  at  length  there 
remained  only  one  to  arrive,  and  Fine  had  not  yet  returned. 

The  young  man,  devoured  by  impatience,  walked  ner- 
vously backward  and  forward,  trembling  lest  the  flower- 
girl  should  not  return  until  the  following  day.  In  his 
trouble  as  to  what  this  last  attempt  might  be,  he  felt  he 
had  not  the  courage  to  pass  another  whole  night  of  un- 
certainty and  anxiety.  He  walked  about  the  Cours  shivering, 
and  a  prey  to  a  sort  of  nightmare. 

At  last,  he  perceived  the  diligence  in  the  distance  in 
the  centre  of  the  Rotonde  Square.  When  he  heard  the 
wheels  rumbling  on  the  stones  his  heart  beat  violently.  He 
set  his  back  against  a  tree  and  watched  the  travellers 
stepping  out  one  by  one. 

All  at  once  he  felt  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot.  He  had 
seen  the  tall  form  and  sad,  pale  face  of  Abbe  Chastanier 
appear  at  one  of  the  open  doors  of  the  vehicle,  almost 
opposite  to  him.  When  the  abbe  was  on  the  pavement 
he  extended  his  hand  and  helped  out  a  young  lady  who 
was  none  other  than  Mademoiselle  Blanche  de  Cazalis. 

Fine  lightly  sprang  to  the  ground  behind  her,  without 
making  use  of  the  step.  She  was  beaming  with  smiles. 

The  two  travellers,  guided  by  Fine,  went  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  Hotel  des  Princes.  Marius,  who  had  remained 
in  the  shades  of  early  evening,  followed  them  in  a  mechanical 
manner,  at  a  loss  to  understand,  as  if  stultified. 

Fine  remained  ten  minutes  in  the  hotel  at  most.  As 
she  left  she  caught  sight  of  the  young  man,  and  ran  towards 
him  in  a  fit  of  delight. 


IN  WHICH  THERE  IS  A   GLIMMER  OF    HOPE.     103 

"  I  succeeded  in  bringing  them  here,"  she  exclaimed 
clapping  her  hands ;  and  now  I  trust  they  will  obtain  what 
I  want.  To-morrow  we  shall  be  fixed." 

Then  she  took  Marius'  arm  and  gave  him  an  account 
of  her  journey. 

The  previous  evening  she  had  been  struck  by  something 
the  young  man  had  said  about  regretting  he  had  not  the 
time  before  him  to  earn  the  amount  he  required  by  work. 
On  the  other  hand  the  anecdotes  her  uncle  had  related, 
had  shown  her  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  find  a 
money-lender  or  usurer  disposed  to  be  reasonable.  The 
matter  was  therefore  reduced  to  one  of  gaining  time,  of 
delaying  as  long  as  possible  the  moment  when  Philippe 
would  be  attached  to  the  pilory.  What  terrified  them  was 
this  public  exhibition,  and  the  infamy  it  carried  with  it, 
by  handing  over  the  condemned  to  the  sneers  and  insults 
of  the  mob. 

From  that  moment  the  young  girl's  plan  was  formed  ; 
it  was  a  bold  plan  which  would  perhaps  succeed  by 
reason  of  its  audacity.  Her  intention  had  been  to  go 
straight  to  M.  Cazalis'  to  penetrate  as  far  as  his  niece 
and  describe  the  picture  of  the  public  exhibiton  of  Philippe, 
pointing  out  how  insulting  such  a  sight  would  be  for  her. 
She  would  persuade  her  to  lend  assistance  and  both 
would  go  and  implore  the  deputy  to  intercede.  If  M.  de 
Cazalis  would  not  consent  to  ask  for  pardon  he  would 
perhaps  try  to  obtain  a  postponement. 

Fine,  however,  did  not  reason  out  her  plans.  It  seemed 
to  her  impossible  that  Blanche's  uncle  could  resist  her 
tears.  She  had  faith  in  her  devotedness. 

The  poor  child  was  dreaming  with  her  eyes  wide  open 
in  hoping  that  M.  de  Cazalis  would  relent  at  the  last 
moment.  This  proud  and  obstinate  man  had  meant  to 
cover  Philippe  with  infamy,  and  he  would  have  allowed  no 
obstacle  to  be  placed  in  the  way  of  his  vengeance.  Had 
she  found  herself  in  his  path  she  would  have  been  crushed, 
she  would  have  expended  her  brightest  smiles  and  most 
.touching  tears  in  pure  loss. 

Fortunately  for  her  she  was  assisted  by  circumstances. 
When  she  called  at  the  dcputv's  mansion  on  the  Cours 


104  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

> 

Bonaparte,  she  was  informed  that  M.  de  Cazalis  had  just 
left  for  Paris  on  business  connected  with  his  political 
position.  She  then  asked  to  see  Mademoiselle  Blanche 
and  was  told,  in  a  sort  of  vague  manner,  that  the  young 
lady  was  absent,  that  she  was  travelling. 

The  flower-girl  felt  very  much  embarrassed,  but  she 
was  obliged  to  withdraw  and  to  go  and  think  matters 
over  in  the  street.  All  her  plans  were  upset,  this  absence 
of  the  uncle  and  niece  deprived  her  of  the  support  on 
which  she  had  relied,  and  she  had  not  a  single  friend  to 
whom  she  could  appeal.  She  was  determined,  however, 
that  she  would  not  lose  her  last  hope  and  return  to  Aix 
as  sick  at  heart  as  on  the  previous  evening,  after  having 
made  a  useless  journey. 

All  at  once  she  thought  of  Abbe  Chastanier.  Marius 
had  often  spoken  to  her  of  the  old  priest.  She  knew 
how  good  and  devoted  he  was.  Perhaps  he  might  be 
able  to  give  her  some  valuable  information. 

She  found  him  at  the  house  of  his  sister,  the  old 
invalided  workwoman,  and  unbosoming  herself  to  him, 
explained  in  a  few  words  the  reason  of  her  journey  to 
Marseilles.  The  priest  listened  to  her  with  lively  concern. 

"  It  is  heaven  that  has  sent  you  here,"  he  answered. 
"  I  think,  under  circumstances  such  as  these,  that  I  may 
violate  the  secret  that  has  been  entrusted  to  me.  Made- 
moiselle Blanche  is  not  travelling.  Her  uncle,  wishing  to 
hide  her  condition  and  being  unable  to  take  her  to  Paris, 
has  rented  a  cottage  for  her  in  the  village  of  Saint  Henri. 
She  is  living  there  with  a  companion.  M.  de  Cazalis,  who 
has  received  me  back  into  his  good  graces  and  begged  me 
to  visit  her  frequently,  has  given  me  considerable  power 
over  her.  Shall  I  take  you  to  this  poor  child,  whom  you 
will  find  very  much  altered  and  broken  down?" 

Fine  accepted  joyfully. 

Blanche  turned  quite  pale  when  she  saw  the  flower-girl, 
and  began  to  shed  warm  tears.  There  was  a  large  bluish 
circle  round  her  eyes,  the  blood  had  fled  from  her  lips 
and  her  cheeks  were  like  white  wax.  One  saw  that  a 
terrible  cry,  the  cry  of  truth,  rose  within  her  and  made 
her  stagger. 


A   RESPITE.  105 

When  Fine,  in  a  sweet  voice,  accompanied  by  tender 
caresses,  had  made  her  understand  that  she  could  perhaps 
save  Philippe  from  supreme  humiliation,  she  stood  straight 
up,  and  said  in  a  broken  voice: 

"  I  am  ready,  dispose  of  me.  I  hear  a  child  speaking 
to  me  unceasingly  of  its  father.  I  would  fain  appease 
the  anger  of  this  poor  little  creature  which  is  yet  unborn." 

"Well,"  continued  Fine,  warmly,  "  assist  us  in  our  work 
of  deliverance.  I  am  certain  you  will  obtain  at  least  a 
respite  if  you  make  the  attempt." 

"But,"  observed  Abbe  Chastanier,  "Mademoiselle  Blanche 
cannot  go  to  Aix  alone.  I  must  accompany  her.  I  know 
that  if  M.  de  Cazalis  hears  of  this  journey,  he  will  load 
me  with  bitter  reproaches.  I  accept,  however,  the  re- 
sponsibility of  what  I  am  doing,  in  the  belief  that  I  am 
acting  as  an  upright  man." 

As  soon  as  the  ilower-girl  had  obtained  this  consent, 
she  hardly  allowed  the  old  man  and  young  girl  sufficient 
time  to  get  a  few  things  together  for  the  journey.  She 
returned  to  Marseilles  with  them,  pushed  them  into  the 
•diligence  and  it  was  thus  that  she  brought  them  triumphantly 
into  Aix. 

The  following  day  Blanche  was  to  pay  a  visit  to  the 
President  of  the  bench  of  judges  who  had  passed  sentence 
on  Philippe. 

When  Fine  had  concluded  her  story,  Marius  embraced 
her  warmly  on  both  checks,  a  proceeding  that  made  a 
bloom  of  pink  overspread  the  young  girl's  forehead. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
A   RESPITE. 

FIXE  called  on  Blanche  and  Abbe  Chastanier  the 
next  morning.  She  wished  to  accompany  them  to  the 
door  of  the  President's  residence,  so  as  to  learn  the  result 
of  their  application  without  a  moment's  delay. 

Marius,    who    understood    that    his    presence    would    be 
painful  to  Mademoiselle  de  Cazalis,  began  strolling  about 


106  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

the  Cours  like  a  soul  in  trouble,  and  followed  the  priest 
and  two  young  girls  at  a  distance.  When  the  supplicants 
had  gone  upstairs,  the  flower-girl  perceived  the  young  man 
and  signed  to  him  to  come  and  join  her.  They  both 
waited,  agitated  and  anxious,  without  exchanging  a  word. 

The  President  received  Blanche  with  great  commiseration. 
He  understood  that  she  had  received  the  cruellest  of  blows 
in  this  unfortunate  business.  The  poor  child  could  not 
speak;  at  the  first  words  she  began  to  sob,  and  all  her 
supplicating  being  begged  for  pity,  infinitely  better  than 
her  prayers  could  have  done. 

It  was  Abbe  Chastanier  who  had  to  explain  their 
presence  and  present  their  petition. 

"Sir,"  said  he  to  the  President,  "we  come  with  joined 
hands.  Mademoiselle  de  Cazalis  is  already  broken  down 
by  the  misfortunes  that  have  overwhelmed  her.  She 
implores  you  for  pity's  sake  to  spare  her  fresh  humiliation." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?  "  inquired  the  President 
in  an  unsteady  voice. 

"We  desire,  if  it  be  possible,  that  you  will  prevent  a 
fresh  scandal.  M.  Philippe  Cayol  has  been  sentenced  to 
be  publicly  exhibited,  and  he  is  to  undergo  this  punishment 
within  the  next  few  days.  But  the  infamy  will  not  attain 
him  alone;  it  will  not  be  a  case  of  one  culprit  being 
fastened  to  the  pillory,  there  will  be  a  poor  suffering  child 
who  now  implores  your  pity.  You  understand,  do  you 
not?  The  yells  and  insults  of  the  mob  will  recoil  on 
Mademoiselle  de  Cazalis ;  she  will  be  dragged  in  the  mud 
by  the  people,  and  her  name  will  be  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth  around  the  abominable  post,  with  sneers  of 
hatred  and  foul  expressions." 

The  President  seemed  deeply  affected.  He  preserved 
silence  for  a  moment.  Then,  as  if  struck  with  a  sudden 
idea,  he  inquired, 

"  But,  was  it  M .  de  Cazalis  who  sent  you  here  ?  Is  he 
aware  of  the  steps  you  are  taking?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  priest  with  frank  dignity,  "  M.  de 
Cazalis  does  not  know  we  are  here.  Men  have  interests, 
passions  that  bear  them  along,  and  which  sometimes 
prevent  them  forming  a  clear  judgment  as  to  their  position. 


A  RESPITE.  107 

Perhaps  we  are  acting  contrary  to  the  wish  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Cazalis'  uncle,  in  coming  to  solicit  you.  But  above 
the  passions  and  interests  of  men,  are  goodness  and  justice. 
And  so  I  do  not  fear  to  place  my  sacred  character  in 
jeopardy,  by  taking  upon  myself  to  ask  you  to  be  good 
and  just." 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  said  the  President.  "  I  understand 
the  motives  that  brought  you  here;  and,  as  you  see,  I  am 
deeply  affected  by  your  words.  Unfortunately  I  cannot 
prevent  the  punishment,  it  is  not  within  my  power  to 
modify  a  sentence  of  a  Court  of  Assizes." 

Blanche  joined  her  hands. 

"Sir,"  she  stammered,  "I  know  not  what  you  can  do 
for  me ;  but,  I  implore  you  to  be  merciful ;  say  to  yourself 
that  it  is  I  whom  you  have  sentenced,  and  endeavour  to 
ease  my  sufferings." 

The  President  took  her  hands,  and  answered  her  with 
parental  tenderness. 

"  My  poor  child,  I  understand  everything.  The  part 
I  have  played  in  this  affair  has  been  a  painful  one.  At 
this  moment  I  am  in  despair  at  not  being  able  to  say  to 
you:  'Fear  nothing,  I  have  the  power  to  overthrow  the 
pillory,  and  you  shall  not  be  attached  to  the  post  with 
the  condemned  man.'  " 

"Then,"  asked  the  dejected  priest,  "  the  exhibition  will 
take  place  shortly  ?  You  are  not  even  allowed  to  delay 
this  deplorable  scene?" 

The  President  had  risen. 

"The  Minister  of  Justice,"  he  said,  "can  put  it  off  at 
the  request  of  the  crown  advocate.  Will  you  have  this 
exhibition  take  place  at  the  end  of  December?  I  shall 
be  glad  to  give  you  a  proof  of  my  compassion  and 
good  will." 

"Yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  Blanche,  warmly.  "Delay  the 
terrible  moment  as  long  as  possible.  I  shall  perhaps  feel 
stronger." 

Abbe  Chastanier  who  knew  what  Marias'  projects 
were,  thought  that  in  presence  of  the  President's  promise, 
he  ought  to  retire  without  insisting  further.  So  he  joined 
Blanche  in  accepting  the  offer  made  them. 


108  THE   MYSTERIES    OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  Very  well,  that  is  understood,"  said  the  President, 
accompanying  them  to  the  door,  "  I  shall  make  the  request, 
and  I  feel  sure  it  will  be  granted,  that  justice  shall  not 
take  its  course  before  the  expiration  of  four  months. 
Until  then  rest  in  peace,  Mademoiselle.  Hope,  heaven 
will  perhaps  send  you  some  balm  to  your  wounds." 

The  two  supplicants  proceeded  downstairs. 

As  soon  as  Fine  perceived  them  she  ran  to  meet  them. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  inquired,  panting  for  breath. 

"As  I  told  you,"  answered  Abbe  Chastanier,  "the 
President  cannot  prevent  the  execution  of  the  sentence." 

The  flower-girl  turned  quite  pale. 

"  But,"  the  old  priest  hastened  to  add,  "  he  has  promised 
to  intercede  and  to  have  the  date  of  the  exhibition 
adjourned.  You  have  four  months  before  you  to  labour 
for  the  prisoner's  welfare." 

Marius  had  approached  the  little  group  formed  by  the 
two  young  girls  and  the  abbe,  in  spite  of  his  desire  to 
stand  aloof.  The  silent,  solitary  street  appeared  quite 
white  in  the  intense  heat  of  the  noonday  sun;  grass  had 
sprung  up  between  the  bright  paving  stones,  and  a  dog, 
that  was  giving  an  airing  to  its  lean  spine  in  the  narrow 
streak  of  shade  which  fell  from  the  houses,  was  the  only 
other  living  thing  about.  When  the  young  man  heard 
the  words  that  fell  from  Abbe  Chastanier,  he  rushed 
forward  and  grasped  his  hands  effusively. 

"Ah!  my  father,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  trembling  voice, 
"  you  have  brought  me  back  hope  and  faith.  Since  yesterday 
I  had  been  doubting  Providence.  How  can  I  thank  you, 
how  can  I  prove  to  you  my  gratitude?  Now  I  feel 
possessed  of  invincible  courage,  I  am  certain  of  saving 
my  brother." 

Blanche,  at  the  sight  of  Marius,  had  hung  her  head. 
A  warm  blush  had  suffused  her  cheeks.  She  stood  there 
confused  and  embarrassed,  suffering  horridly  at  the  presence 
of  this  youth,  who  was  aware  of  her  perjury,  and  whom 
her  uncle  and  she  had  plunged  into  despair.  When  the 
young  man's  joy  had  somewhat  subsided,  he  regretted 
he  had  approached .  The  despairing  attitude  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Cazalis  aroused  his  pity. 


A   RESPITE.  109 

"My  brother  has  been  very  guilty,"  he  said  to  her  at 
last.  "Pardon  him  as  I  pardon  you." 

These  few  words  were  all  he  could  find.  He  would 
have  liked  to  have  spoken  to  her  of  her  child,  to  have 
questioned  her  as  to  the  lot  reserved  to  this  poor  little 
creature,  to  have  claimed  it  in  the  name  of  Philippe;  but 
he  saw  her  so  bowed  down,  that  he  dared  not  torture  her 
further. 

Fine  doubtless  understood  what  was  passing  within  him. 
While  he  walked  a  few  steps  with  Abbe  Chastanier,  she 
said  rapidly  to  Blanche: 

"  Remember  that  I  offered  you  to  be  a  mother  to  your 
child.  Now,  I  love  you,  for  I  see  you  have  a  good  heart. 
Make  a  sign  and  I'll  hasten  to  your  assistance.  But  apart 
from  that,  I  shall  be  on  the  watch,  for  the  little  creature 
must  not  suffer  from  the  folly  of  its  parents." 

Blanche's  only  answer  was  to  silently  squeeze  the  flower- 
girl's  hand.  Big  tears  were  trickling  down  her  cheeks. 

Mademoiselle  de  Cazalis  and  Abbe  Chastanier  re- 
turned at  once  to  Marseilles.  Fine  and  Marius  hastened 
to  the  gaol.  They  told  Revertegat  that  they  had  four 
months  to  prepare  the  escape,  and  the  gaoler  swore  he 
would  abide  by  his  word,  on  whatever  day  and  hour  they 
might  remind  him  of  it. 

The  two  young  people  desired  to  see  Philippe  before 
leaving  Aix,  so  as  to  let  him  know  what  had  taken  place 
and  tell  him  to  have  hope.  At  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
evening  Revertegat  conducted  them  again  to  the  cell. 

Philippe,  who  was  becoming  accustomed  to  the  prison 
regulations,  did  not  seem  particularly  depressed. 

"  Provided  I  am  spared  the  disgrace  of  the  public 
exhibition,"  he  said  to  them,  "  I  will  consent  to  everything. 
I  would  rather  break  my  head  open  against  a  wall,  than 
be  fastened  to  the  post  of  infamy." 

And  the  following  day  the  diligence  brought  Marius  and 
Fine  back  to  Marseilles.  They  were  about  to  continue 
the  struggle  to  which  their  hearts  urged  them,  on  a  much 
larger  scale  than  before;  they  were  about  to  dive  to  the 
bottom  of  human  misery  and  behold  the  bare  wounds  of 
a  great  city  abandoned  to  all  the  passions  of  modern  industry. 


part  IL 

CHAPTER  I. 

M.    SAUVAIRE,   THE    MASTER   STEVEDORE. 

CADET  COUGOURDAN'S  employer,  the  master  stevedore 
Sauvaire,  was  a  short,  lively,  dark  man  with  thickset 
powerful  limbs.  His  great  hooked  nose,  thin  lips  and 
elongated  visage,  were  expressive  of  that  vain-glorious 
confidence  and  artful  bragging  which  are  the  distinctive 
features  of  certain  types  in  the  south  of  France. 

Brought  up  in  the  port,  a  simple  labourer  in  his  youth, 
he  had  saved  up  his  earnings  for  ten  years.  He  raised 
enormous  weights  and  was  possessed  of  vigorous  strength 
that  did  wonders.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  saying  he  did 
not  fear  big  men. 

The  truth  was  that  this  dwarf  could  have  thrashed  a 
giant.  But  he  displayed  prudence  and  wisdom  in  the 
use  he  made  of  his  power,  avoiding  quarrels,  knowing 
that  the  tension  of  his  muscles  was  worth  money,  and 
that  a  blow  with  the  fist  only  brings  trouble.  He  lived 
soberly,  given  up  entirely  to  work  and  avarice,  impatient 
to  attain  the  end  he  dreamed  of. 

At  last  he  had  before  him  the  few  thousand  francs  he 
required  to  accomplish  his  object.  He  became  a  master 
from  one  day  to  another,  took  men  into  his  employ,  and 
with  folded  arms  watched  them  toiling  and  perspiring. 
From  time  to  time  he  gave  them  a  little  help  with  a 
grumble. 

Sauvaire,  at  the  bottom,  was  a  downright  lazy  fellow; 
he  had  worked  out  of  obstinacy,  preferring  to  perform  his 
life's  task  at  one  go-off  and  rest  later  on  in  the  comfortable 


M.    SAUVAIRE,    THE   MASTER   STEVEDORE.       I  I  I 

indolence  of  a  wealthy  man.  Now  that  he  had  poor 
wretches  to  win  him  a  fortune,  he  walked  about  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  piling  up  money,  waiting  until  he 
had  amassed  a  large  sum  to  satisfy  his  instincts  of  free 
and  noisy  life. 

Little  by  little  the  avaricious  workman  became  transformed 
into  a  wealthy  prodigal.  Sauvaire  was  possessed  of  a 
tremendous  appetite  for  wealth  and  pleasure :  he  wished 
to  have  plenty  of  money  in  order  to  enjoy  himself  beyond 
measure,  and  he  desired  to  do  that,  so  as  to  show  he  had 
plenty  of  money.  He  was  urged  on  by  the  vanity  of 
a  parvenu  to  make  his  pleasures  fiendishly  riotous.  When 
he  laughed  he  insisted  on  all  Marseilles  hearing  his  peal 
of  merriment. 

He  now  wore  clothes  fashioned  out  of  fine  cloth,  under 
which  it  was  easy  to  distinguish  the  stiff  limbs  of  the 
former  workman.  A  heavy  gold  chain  was  spread  out 
across  his  waistcoat,  it  was  as  thick  as  one's  finger  and 
from  it  hung  a  bunch  of  massive  charms  which  seemed 
almost  sufficient  to  stun  an  ox.  On  the  left  hand  he 
wore  a  gold  ring  without  any  stone.  With  patent  leather 
shoes  on  his  feet  and  a  soft  felt  hat  on  his  head  he  sauntered 
up  and  down  the  Cannebiere  and  round  about  the  Port 
all  day,  smoking  a  magnificent  meerschaum  pipe  mounted 
in  silver;  and,  as  he  walked  along  he  made  the  charms 
dance  on  his  stomach,  while  his  eyes  wandered  over  the 
crowd  with  a  half-bantering,  half-kindly  expression.  He 
was  enjoying  himself. 

Sauvaire  had,  little  by  little,  entrusted  the  management 
of  his  business  to  Cadet  Cougourdan,  whose  smart  manners 
pleased  him:  this  youth  of  twenty  summers  was  gifted 
with  an  upright  and  candid  mind  that  gave  him  positive 
superiority  over  the  other  stevedores.  The  master  was 
delighted  at  having  such  a  workman  at  his  elbow;  he 
appointed  him  overseer  of  the  men  working  for  him,  and 
from  that  moment  was  able  to  make  a  grand  display  in 
Marseilles  of  his  natural  desires.  He  limited  his  work  to 
making  up  his  accounts  in  the  morning  and  pocketing  the 
money  that  had  been  earned. 

The    existence   he    had    been    dreamine  of  commenced. 


112  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Sauvaire  became  a  member  of  a  club.  He  gambled,  but 
prudently,  being  of  opinion  that  the  pleasure  derived  from 
the  card-table  is  not  worth  what  it  costs ;  he  wanted  his 
money's  worth  of  amusement  and  he  therefore  sought 
after  substantial  and  lasting  enjoyment.  He  dined  at  the 
best  eating-houses,  and  associated  with  ladies  whom  he 
showed  off  in  public.  His  vanity  was  deliciously  tickled 
when  he  was  able  to  lounge  on  the  cushions  of  a  carriage 
beside  a  huge  silk  skirt.  The  lady  was  nothing,  the  silk 
gown  all.  He  dragged  it  into  private  dining-rooms  and 
there  threw  the  windows  open,  so  that  all  the  passers-by 
might  see  that  he  was  having  a  rare  time  with  a  well- 
dressed  lady,  and  ordering  expensive  dishes.  Others  would 
have  closed  the  shutters  and  bolted  the  door;  his  dream 
was  to  kiss  his  fair  companions  in  a  glass  house,  so  that 
the  multitude  might  know  that  he  was  wealthy  enough 
to  love  such  pretty  creatures.  He  had  his  own  idea  of  love. 

For  a  month  he  had  been  living  in  rapture.  He  had 
met  a  young  woman  whose  acquaintance  tickled  his  self- 
esteem.  This  young  person  was  protected  by  a  Count 
and  was  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  Queens  of  the  demi- 
monde at  Marseilles.  She  called  herself  Therese-Armande 
but  was  better  known  by  the  familiar  name  of  Armande. 

When  Armande  placed  her  little  gloved  hand  in  Sauvaire's 
huge  paw  for  the  first  time,  the  master-stevedore  almost 
fainted  with  delight.  This  pressure  of  the  hand  was  ex- 
changed in  the  Alices  de  Meilhan,  opposite  the  door  of 
the  house  where  the  lorette  resided,  and  the  passers-by 
stopped  and  turned  round,  at  the  sight  of  this  man  and 
young  woman,  smiling  and  bowing  to  each  other.  Sauvaire 
went  off  bursting  with  pride,  and  in  ecstasies  about  Armande's 
dress  and  superior  manners.  He  had  but  one  thought :  that 
of  protecting  this  person  himself,  supplanting  the  Count 
and  walking  about  with  lace  and  velvet  leaning  on  his  arm. 

He  watched  for  Armande  and  placed  himself  in  her 
path.  He  fell  in  love  with  the  luxuriant  finery  she  wore, 
and  the  perfumery  that  escaped  from  her  clothes.  He 
was  proud  at  getting  a  bow  from  her,  at  appearing  to  be 
one  of  her  friends,  and  it  would  certainly  not  have  displeased 
him  to  have  been  thought  one  of  her  lovers. 


M.    SAUVAIRE,    THE   MASTER   STEVEDORE.      I  15 

At  length  she  succumbed.  He  thought  it  a  victory  due 
to  the  charms  of  his  person.  For  a  week  his  conceit  was 
unbearable.  He  went  about  casting  a  look  of  mocking 
pity  on  the  people  he  met  in  the  street.  When  Armande 
was  leaning  on  his  arm  the  pavement  seemed  too  small 
for  him.  The  gentle  swaying  to  and  fro  in  the  lady's 
gait,  the  frou-frou  of  her  skirts  threw  him  into  a  delicious 
reverie.  He  was  very  fond  of  crinolines  which  take  up  a 
great  deal  of  room  and  interfere  with  pedestrian  traffic. 

He  related  his  good  fortune  to  everyone.  Cadet  was 
one  of  his  first  confidents. 

"  Ah !  If  you  only  knew !  "  he  said  to  him,  "  the 
charming  person,  and  how  she  adores  me!  She  has 
everything  imaginable  at  her  place,  carpets,  curtains,  glasses. 
You  would  think  yourself  in  high  society,  'pon  my  word ! 
And  with  all  that,  not  in  the  least  proud,  a  good-natured 
girl  with  her  hand  always  open.  Yesterday  I  lunched  in 
her  small  drawing-room,  and  we  then  took  an  open 
carriage  and  drove  to  the  Prado.  Everyone  was  staring 
at  us.  It  is  enough  to  make  you  die  of  joy  to  be  in 
such  a  woman's  society." 

Cadet  smiled.  His  dream  was  to  be  loved  by  a  robust 
girl,  and  in  his  eyes  Armande  had  all  the  appearance  of 
a  mechanical  doll,  of  a  brittle  toy,  which  he  would  have 
broken  between  his  fingers.  But  he  did  not  wish  to  annoy 
his  employer,  and  so  he  went  into  ecstasies  with  him  over 
the  lorette's  charms.  In  the  evening  he  gave  Fine  an 
account  of  Sauvaire's  follies. 

The  (lower-girl  had  resumed  her  place  in  her  little  kiosk 
on  the  Cours  St.  Louis.  While  selling  her  flowers,  she  kept 
her  eyes  on  the  alert,  in  search  of  opportunities  to  come  to 
Manns'  assistance.  She  had  not  lost  sight  of  the  loan  of 
fifteen  thousand  francs  and  each  day  she  built  up  a  new  plan 
dreaming  of  taxing  those  whom  chance  brought  near  her. 

"Do  you  think,"  she  inquired  one  morning  of  her  brother, 
"that  M.  Sauvaire  is  a  man  to  lend  money?" 

"That's  according  to  circumstances,"  answered  Cadet. 
"  He  would  willingly  give  a  thousand  francs  ti  •  a  poor 
devil  on  a  public  square,  before  a  crowd  of  people,  to 
make  an  exhibition  of  kind  heartedness. " 


114  THE  MYSTERIES  OF   MARSEILLES- 

The  flower-girl  laughed. 

"Oh!  It's  not  charity  that  is  wanted,"  she  answered. 
"  The  lender's  left  hand  must  ignore  what  is  done  by  his 
right." 

"The  deuce!"  said  Cadet.  "That  is  too  disinterested. 
However,  one  can  see." 

On  the  basis  of  these  few  words  of  conversation  Fine 
elaborated  quite  a  scheme.  She  believed  Sauvaire  was 
very  wealthy,  and  she  did  not  take  him  for  an  ill-natured 
man  at  heart.  It  would,  perhaps,  be  possible  to  get 
something  out  of  him  by  making  use  of  Armande's 
influence. 

The  flower-girl  understood  that  she  must  first  of  all 
persuade  Marius  to  call  on  the  lorette.  That  was  the 
difficult  part  of  the  business.  The  young  man  would 
firmly  refuse,  would  say  that  there  could  be  nothing  in 
common  between  him  and  this  woman. 

One  day  she  let  Armande's  name  escape  her  as  if  by 
accident,  and  was  very  much  surprised  to  see  Marius 
smile  and  appear  to  know  all  about  her. 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  the  lady?"  she  inquired. 

"  I  went  to  see  her  once,"  he  answered.  "  It  was  Philippe 
who  took  me  there.  This  lady,  as  you  term  her,  threw 
open  her  reception-rooms  to  her  friends  once  a  week,  and 
my  brother  was  one  of  the  frequenters  of  the  place.  Faith, 
I  was  very  well  received  and  found  a  charming  hostess 
there,  who  was  exceedingly  ladylike  and  very  elegant." 

Fine  seemed  quite  sad  to  hear  Marius  sing  Armande's 
praises. 

"  It  appears,"  he  continued,  "that  things  have  somewhat 
changed  at  her  place  during  the  past  year.  They  tell  me 
her  affairs  are  very  much  involved.  However,  they  say 
she  is  extremely  clever,  and  has  a  talent  for  intrigue;  if 
she  should  happen  to  come  across  a  simpleton  she  will 
easily  get  out  of  her  difficulties." 

The  young  girl  had  recovered  from  the  strange  emotion 
that  had  got  the  better  of  her.  She  adroitly  continued 
to  put  her  plan  into  execution  without  undue  haste. 

"The  simpleton  is  found,"  she  said,  laughing.  "Don't 
you  know  M.  Sauvaire,  Cadet's  principal?" 


M.    SAUVAIRE,  THE    MASTER   STEVEDORE.       I  1 5 

"Slightly,"  answered  Marius,  "I  have  sometimes  met 
him  walking  about  the  old  port  in  slippers." 

"Well,  he  has  been  Armande's  lover  for  the  last  few 
months,  and  they  pretend  he  has  already  spent  some 
money  with  her." 

Then  Fine  added  in  an  indifferent  tone  of  voice : 

"Why  don't  you  go  and  see  Armande  again?  You 
would  meet  wealthy  people  there  who  might  assist  you  in 
the  affair  in  question.  M.  Sauvaire  would  perhaps  be 
disposed  to  help  you." 

Marius  became  serious  and  for  a  moment  was  silent.  He 
was  thinking. 

"  Pooh !  "  he  exclaimed  at  last,  "  I  must  not  flinch  at 
anything.  I  shall  have  to  call  and  see  that  person  to-mor- 
row. I  will  explain  my  visit  by  speaking  of  my  brother." 

The  flower-girl  looked  the  young  man  in  the  face  with 
quivering  eyelids. 

"  And  above  all,"  she  continued,  with  a  forced  laugh, 
"don't  go  and  remain  at  the  feet  of  the  enchantress.  I 
have  often  heard  tell  of  her  costly  and  clever  style  of 
dress,  of  her  wit,  and  the  strange  power  she  exercises 
over  men." 

Marius,  who  was  astonished  at  his  friend's  unsteady 
voice,  took  her  hand  and  examined  her  with  his  penetrat- 
ing eyes. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you?  "  he  inquired.  "  Anyone 
would  think  I  was  going  to  see  the  devil,  and  that  I  am 
a  sinner.  Ah  !  my  dear  Fine,  I  am  far  from  thinking  of 
such  nonsense.  I  have  a  solemn  task  to  perform.  Besides, 
look  at  me  well.  What  woman  would  care  for  such  a 
baboon  ?  " 

The  young  girl  gazed  at  him,  and  was  quite  surprised 
to  find  him  no  longer  ugly.  Formerly  he  had  seemed 
frightful ;  now  she  perceived  something  like  light  burst 
from  his  countenance  and  transform  his  features.  The 
young  man  pressed  her  hand  amicably  and  she  remained 
quite  troubled. 

The  following  evening  Marius  called  on  Armando  in 
accordance  with  his  determination. 


Il6  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

CHAPTER  II. 
A    MARSEILLAISE   LORETTE. 

ARMANDE'S  origin  was  shrouded  in  mystery.  She  pretended 
she  was  born  in  India  of  a  native  woman  and  an  English 
officer.  She  started  from  that  point  and  related  a  novel  of 
which  she  was  the  heroine,  to  anyone  who  would  listen  to  it. 

She  made  a  wealthy  protector  who  had  taken  care  of 
her  at  her  father's  death,  responsible  for  her  first  fault.  He 
had  brought  her  up  in  the  greatest  refinement  on  the 
same  principle  as  that  of  fattening  a  fowl  in  order  that 
it  may  make  a  more  toothsome  dish.  She  delighted  in 
relating  this  brutally  romantic  tale. 

Thanks  to  her  falsehoods  her  real  history  was  never 
known.  She  had  one  day  swooped  down  on  Marseilles, 
just  like  those  birds  that  scent  a  district  rich  in  all  kinds 
of  prey,  from  afar.  In  settling  in  a  commercial  centre, 
she  displayed  extraordinary  intelligence. 

From  the  moment  of  her  arrival  she  directed  her  bat- 
teries against  business  men,  young  merchants  who  shovel 
money  about.  She  understood  that  these  young  sparks, 
confined  all  day  in  their  offices,  were  thirsting  for  amuse- 
ment at  night,  and  anxious  to  squander  some  of  the  cash 
they  have  earned. 

She  set  her  snares  with  art.  She  began  by  starting  her 
establishment  on  an  important  footing,  and  giving  it  a  sort 
of  aristocratic  appearance.  It  was  easy  for  her  to  vanquish 
the  rivals  whom  she  found  already  settled  in  the  city. 
Those  poor  fallen  daughters  of  Eve  were  grossly  ignorant  ; 
they  dressed  badly,  hardly  knew  how  to  speak,  made  a 
wretched,  mean  show  of  luxury,  and  gave  themselves 
stupidly  away.  Armande  crushed  them  with  her  elegance 
and  the  wit  she  had  picked  up  here  and  there  in  her 
intercourse  with  persons  in  good  station  of  life.  In  a 
few  months  she  became  a  sort  of  mundane  celebrity. 

At  home,  as  Sauvaire  had  na'ively  said,  she  gave  herself 
the  airs  of  a  duchess.  She  had  displayed  admirable  taste 
in  furnishing  her  apartment. 


A   MARSEILLAISE   LORETTE.  117 

She  threw  open  her  drawing-room,  and  while  she  attracted 
the  golden  youth  of  the  city  by  her  noisy  mode  of  life, 
she  retained  them  by  her  good  graces  and  air  of  distinction. 
You  could  hardly  perceive,  through  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  the  lady  of  easy  virtue.  She  had  lovers  and  was 
willing  enough  to  show  them  off;  but,  in  public  and  at 
her  evening  parties,  she  maintained  a  decency  of  demeanour 
for  which  they  felt  very  grateful  to  her.  She  was  the 
emblem  of  vice — witty,  elegant,  and  perfumed. 

Little  by  little  she  surrounded  herself  by  most  of  the 
fast  men  of  the  city,  but  she  was  careful  only  to  receive 
wealthy  people,  such  as  earned  a  great  deal  of  money  and 
spent  still  more.  At  the  commencement  she  had  only  to 
choose  her  victims,  a  swarm  being  at  her  feet.  She  devoured 
several  fortunes  with  her  sharp  teeth,  living  in  the  utmost 
luxury,  and  providing  for  all  the  requirements  of  her  mode 
of  life,  which  were  enormous. 

Moral  people  looked  on  her  as  a  regular  pest,  as  a 
bottomless  pit  in  which  the  capital  of  the  young  commercial 
men  of  Marseilles  was  being  engulfed.  Her  rivals  tore  her 
to  bits  and  accused  her  of  engaging  in  shameless  intrigues  ; 
they  made  fun  of  her  thin  face,  of  the  wrinkles  come 
before  their  time,  said  she  was  ugly,  which  was  almost 
true,  and  vowed  they  could  not  understand  the  infatuation 
of  those  idiotic  men  for  the  creature.  Armande  let  them 
talk  and  quietly  reigned.  For  several  years  she  had 
domineered  over  them  by  her  mind,  luxury  and  the  science 
of  an  elegant  and  refined  woman.  Men  attended  her  recep- 
tions in  dress  coats  and  white  neckties. 

Then,  without  any  apparent  cause,  her  credit  was  all 
at  once  lost.  Bad  fortune  came,  and  made  holes  in  her 
luxuriant  existence.  No  doubt  she  had  gone  out  of  fashion 
and  generous  protectors  were  scarce.  She  descended  to 
that  semi-state  of  poverty  which  is  attired  in  silk  and 
treads  on  carpets.  Feeling  she  would  roll  into  the  gutter 
if  she  did  not  make  an  effort  to  retain  her  grand  apartment, 
she  struggled  in  desperation  against  her  ill-luck.  She 
understood  that  her  power  of  fascination  came  solely  from 
her  apparent  wealth,  from  her  style  of  dress,  from  the 
money  which  permitted  her  to  act  the  part  of  a  duchess 


Il8  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

beyond  her  sphere,  at  her  ease.  She  knew  that  as  soon 
as  she  was  out  of  silk  and  had  closed  her  drawing-room, 
she  would  become  a  poor  girl,  an  ugly,  faded  creature 
whom  no  one  would  have  anything  to  do  with,  and  she 
displayed  feverish  energy  to  find  protectors  and  procure 
money  at  any  cost. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  she  made  the  acquaintance  of 
a  Madame  Mercier,  who  advanced  her  money  at  an  exorbitant 
rate  of  interest.  She  had  taken  in  so  many  young  sim- 
pletons, that  she  allowed  herself  to  be  imposed  upon  in 
her  turn  without  much  ado.  She  hoped,  however,  to  make 
the  first  wealthy  individual  whom  she  came  across,  pay 
the  capital  and  interest  of  the  money  she  had  borrowed. 
But  men  of  wealth  did  not  put  in  an  appearance  and  she 
became  more  and  more  anxious. 

Urged  on  by  necessity  and  feeling  that  her  beauty, 
which  was  her  bread-winner,  was  leaving  her  day  by  day 
with  her  luxury,  she  turned  to  crime.  She  had  already 
been  obliged  to  sell  looking-glasses,  furniture,  porcelain, 
to  satisfy  the  demands  of  her  creditors;  her  apartment 
was  becoming  stripped  of  everything;  she  saw  the  walls 
getting  bare,  little  by  little,  and  thought,  with  a  shudder, 
of  the  day  when  she  would  find  herself  weary  and  old  in 
an  empty  room.  The  upholsterers,  milliners,  all  the  tradesmen 
to  whom  she  owed  money,  became  more  troublesome  as 
they  detected  their  customer's  approaching  ruin  :  they  knew 
that  protectors  were  becoming  rare,  and  insisted  on  the 
immediate  payment  of  their  claims.  Some  of  them  talked 
of  putting  in  the  brokers.  Armande  therefore  understood 
that  she  was  lost  unless  she  found  money  at  once — no 
matter  how. 

She  had  recourse  to  an  extreme  measure.  She  imitated 
the  writing  of  three  or  four  of  her  lovers,  and  made  out 
acceptances  in  her  own  favour  which  she  signed  with  these 
person's  names.  Then,  not  daring  to  go  to  a  banker,  she 
applied  to  Madame  Mercier,  who  consented  to  discount 
several  of  the  bills. 

It  is  probable  that  this  female  usurer  was  not  ignorant 
of  their  origin  and  that  she  even  speculated  on  it.  Holding 
the  young  woman  in  her  clutches,  able  at  any  moment  to 


A  MARSEILLAISE   LORETTE.  119 

lodge  a  complaint  with  the  crown-attorney,  relying,  more- 
over, on  those  whose  names  were  on  the  bills,  and 
whose  interest  it  was  to  avoid  a  scandal,  she  considered 
the  forgeries  she  held  in  guarantee,  as  preferable  to  genuine 
bills.  She  based  quite  a  fortune  on  her  complacency, 
exacting  enormous  interest,  embroiling  the  lorette's  affairs 
more  and  more,  making  her  provide  for  her  completely, 
acting  a  cunning  and  hypocritical  part  which  she  performed 
to  perfection. 

Armande  managed  to  get  along  for  two  years  without 
being  disturbed.  She  had  made  the  bills  payable  at  her 
residence,  and  provided  the  money  for  them  when  they 
fell  due  at  any  cost,  taking  a  hundred  francs  from  the 
first  man  she  met,  completing  the  amount  by  selling  some- 
thing, borrowing  again  and  forging  fresh  bills.  Madame 
Mercier  continued  to  be  humble  and  obliging;  she  desired 
to  hold  her  prey  in  a  close  grip  before  showing  her  teeth 
and  biting. 

Then  the  time  came  when  Armande  was  positively 
unable  to  meet  the  forged  acceptances.  She  cast  herself 
into  the  gutter  in  vain.  She  went  to  the  Chateau-des- 
Fleurs  and  still  could  not  make  the  money  she  required 
to  keep  up  her  house. 

It  was  just  then  that  she  made  Sauvaire's  acquaintance. 
For  him  she  dismissed  a  Count  she  had  ruined,  under  the 
impression  that  the  master  stevedore  was  rich  and  generous. 
In  other  times  when  she  was  Queen  of  Marseilles  and 
insolently  displayed  her  lace  and  velvet,  she  would  have 
gazed  down  on  Sauvaire  from  the  height  of  the  wealth 
and  elegance  of  her  admirers.  But  now  there  was  no  prey 
that  she  disdained;  she  set  her  batteries  against  the  crowd 
and  would  willingly  have  received  money  from  soiled  hands. 
The  former  workman  mistook  the  dire  necessity  which 
thrust  the  young  woman  into  his  arms,  for  tenderness. 
After  a  few  months  she  perceived  with  alarm,  that  her 
new  acquaintance  had  all  the  prudent,  economical  habits 
of  an  upstart  and  that  he  spent  all  his  money  on  himself 
like  an  egotist.  Two  or  three  of  the  forged  acceptances 
were  not  met  and  Madame  Mercier  began  to  get  angry. 

Things    were   at    that    point    when    one   evening  Marius 


120  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

na'ively  called.  He  expected  to  meet  some  of  the  numerous 
wealthy  company  in  her  drawing-room  to  whom  his  brother 
had  introduced  him.  He  had  a  vague  idea  of  getting 
intimate  with  some  young  business-man  who  would  come 
to  his  assistance ;  and  he  relied  in  a  measure  on  Sauvaire, 
whose  obliging  disposition  Fine  had  been  careful  to  exaggerate. 

He  was  very  much  astonished  to  find  the  drawing-room 
empty.  The  large  apartment  was  lit  with  a  single  lamp 
and  appeared  particularly  bare.  Sauvaire  was  reclining 
on  a  large  divan  and  seemed  to  be  making  a  great  fuss 
about  digesting  the  dinner  he  had  just  eaten,  undoing 
some  of  the  buttons  of  his  waistcoat,  and  holding  a  tooth- 
pick between  his  fingers. 

Armande  was  seated  beside  him  in  an  arm-chair,  reading 
Graziella,  with  her  forehead  resting  dreamily  on  the  palm 
of  her  left  hand.  An  Italian  greyhound  named  Djali  was 
lying  at  her  feet,  with  its  head  reposing  on  her  cherry- 
coloured  slippers. 

One  of  Armande's  ways  of  seduction  was  to  read  the 
works  of  great  modern  poets  before  her  admirers.  She 
had  a  small  bookcase  containing  the  writings  of  Chateau- 
briand, Victor  Hugo,  de  Lamartine  and  Alfred  de  Musset. 

In  the  evening,  in  the  pale  light  of  the  lamp,  at  an 
hour  when  she  was  still  beautiful,  she  languidly  spelt  over 
pages  of  verse  or  poetical  prose.  This  placed  a  sort  of 
halo  round  her  head.  Her  admirers  thought  they  had  an 
ignorant  girl  to  deal  with,  and  they  found  an  educated, 
almost  a  lettered,  lady,  who  read  books  that  they  had 
never  had  either  the  time  or  energy  to  look  into. 

Sauvaire,  especially,  felt  crushed  and  overshadowed  on 
the  day  when  his  lady  friend  took  up  a  book  of  verses, 
and  quietly  began  turning  over  the  pages  of  it  before  him. 
It  was  a  rare  event  with  him  when  he  glanced  through 
a  newspaper.  A  woman  opening  a  volume  of  poetry  was 
in  his  eyes  a  superior  creature.  Each  time  Armande  read 
in  his  presence  he  collected  himself  and  looked  affected 
and  charmed.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  becoming 
wise  himself. 

Marius  slightly  smiled  when  he  saw  Armande  in  an 
inclined  attitude  feigning  ecstasy,  and  the  position  Sauvaire 


A   MARSEILLAISE   LORETTE.  121 

was  in,  lounging  on  the  divan  with  his  hands  clasped 
across  his  stomach. 

The  lorette  welcomed  the  new-comer  with  her  easy, 
sprightly  grace.  She  had  been  more  or  less  intimately 
connected  with  Philippe,  and  she  treated  Marius  as  an 
old  acquaintance.  She  asked  him  to  be  seated,  and 
reproached  him  with  the  rarity  of  his  visits. 

"I  know  very  well,"  she  added,  "that  you  have  had  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  lately.  Poor  Philippe !  I  can  fancy 
sometimes  that  I  see  him  in  his  damp  prison,  he  who 
was  so  fond  of  luxury  and  pleasure '  That  will  teach  him 
to  place  his  affection  in  better  hands." 

Sauvaire  had  raised  himself  a  little.  One  of  his  good 
qualities  was  that  he  was  not  jealous;  on  the  contrary 
he  showed  himself  quite  proud  of  his  companion's  pest 
admirers.  The  fondness  which  Armande  had  formerly 
shown  for  others  doubled,  in  his  eyes,  the  value  of  his 
good  fortune.  Besides,  Marius  seemed  to  him  so  small  that 
he  was  delighted  to  appear  robust  beside  of  him. 

The  young  woman  introduced  the  two  men. 

"Oh!  We  know  each  other,"  said  the  master  stevedore, 
with  the  laugh  of  a  happy  man.  "I  also  know  M.  Philippe 
Cayol.  There's  a  fine  fellow  for  you!" 

The  truth  was  that  Sauvaire  was  delighted  at  being  found 
alone  with  Armande.  He  began  to  talk  to  her  familiarly, 
to  lay  stress  on  the  pleasures  they  participated  in  together, 
and  then  resumed  speaking  of  Philippe: 

"He  often  came  to  see  you,  didn't  he?  Ah!  never  mind, 
don't  protest.  I  think  you  were  in  love  with  each  other. 
I  used  to  meet  him  sometimes  at  the  Chateau-dcs-Fleurs. 
We  went  there  yesterday.  Eh!  my  dear,  what  a  crowd, 
what  dresses !  " 

He  turned  to  Marius. 

"In  the  evening,"  he  added,  ''we  supped  at  a  restaurant. 
It  is  very  expensive.  It  is  not  everyone  who  can  afford  that." 

Armande  seemed  to  suffer.  There  was  still  some  delicacy 
about  the  woman.  She  looked  at  Marius,  shrugged  her 
shoulders  slightly,  shot  glances  at  him,  scoffing  at  Sauvaire. 
The  latter  remained  imperturbable  and  stretched  himself 
out  full  of  enjoyment. 


122  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

Marius  then  guessed  how  much  the  lorette  was  embar- 
rassed and  tormented.  He  felt  something  like  pity  at  the 
sight  of  her  deserted  drawing-room,  and  when  he  under- 
stood down  what  a  frightfully  steep  incline  this  woman, 
whom  he  had  known  happy  and  without  a  care,  was 
rolling,  he  regretted  having  called. 

About  ten  o'clock  he  found  himself  alone  with  Sauvaire, 
who  began  to  give  him  an  account  of  his  good  fortune 
and  joyous  existence. 

A  servant  had  come  to  tell  Armande  that  Madame 
Mercier  was  in  the  ante-chamber  and  that  she  seemed 
very  angry. 

CHAPTER  III. 
IN   WHICH   MADAME  MERCIER   SHOWS   HER   CLAWS. 

MADAME  MERCIER  was  a  little  round,  fat  old  woman  of 
fifty,  who  was  for  ever  tearfully  complaining  about  the 
hardness  of  the  times.  Attired  in  a  gown  of  washed-out 
printed  calico,  always  with  an  old  straw  basket  on  her  arm 
which  served  as  a  safe,  she  trotted  along  with  short  steps 
and  the  sly  movements  of  a  cat.  She  was  humble  and 
wretched  and  gave  herself  poverty-stricken  airs  to  make 
people  pity  her.  Her  fresh  complexion,  and  the  wrinkles 
on  her  face,  resembling  rolls  of  fat,  were  a  standing  protest 
against  the  tears  that  inundated  it  at  every  moment. 

This  female  usurer  played  her  part  admirably  with 
Armande.  She  first  of  all  acted  the  good-natured  woman. 
She  gained  absolute  control  over  her  with  an  infernal  kind 
of  art,  showing  herself  in  turn  serviceable  and  egotistic,, 
embroiling  the  accounts,  allowing  the  interest  to  accumulate, 
making  it  impossible  for  her  debtor  to  verify  anything. 

Thus,  when  one  of  the  acceptances  fell  due  and  Armande 
was  without  funds  to  meet  it,  Madame  Mercier  was  greatly 
distressed,  then  she  promised  to  borrow  the  money  from 
someone,  vowing  she  had  not  got  it  herself.  She  advanced 
the  amount  of  the  bill,  but  made  the  lorette  immediately 
reimburse  her,  and  thus  there  was  fresh  interest  to  pay. 


MADAME   MERCIER   SHOWS   HER   CLAWS.       I  2  3. 

In  all  this  coming  and  going  of  acceptances,  in  the  constant 
increase  in  the  rate  of  discount,  Armande  had  lost  all 
count  of  how  she  stood,  what  she  had  paid  and  what 
she  still  owed.  In  the  meantime  the  debt  increased  without 
the  usurer  making  any  farther  advances,  and  the  older  it 
became  the  more  obscure  it  got.  The  young  woman  felt 
herself  lost  at  the  bottom  of  chaos. 

The  female  usurer  maintained  her  despairing  and  coaxing 
manner.  When  she  supplied  money  herself  in  order  that 
Armande  might  pay  her,  she  made  her  feel  all  her  devoted- 
ness,  all  the  heroism  of  her  conduct. 

"Eh?  You  have  never  seen  a  creditor  like  me,"  she 
would  say.  "  I  even  go  so  far  as  to  borrow  the  money 
you  want.  That  is  splendid,  that  is !  " 

"But,"  answered  Armande,  "it's  for  yourself  that  you 
borrow  the  money,  as  I  give  it  you." 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  the  old  woman,  "  I  am  only 
seeking  to  do  you  a  service." 

So  Madame  Mercier  in  this  way  introduced  herself  little 
by  little  into  the  house.  Every  two  or  three  clays,  she 
came  and  showed  her  cunning,  coaxing  face.  Armande 
became  her  property,  her  slave.  Sometimes  she  arrived 
all  in  a  flutter,  fell  into  a  chair  in  despair  and  accused 
the  young  woman  of  wanting  to  run  away  without  paying 
her ;  it  was  necessary  to  take  her  over  the  apartment  and 
let  her  see  that  the  trunks  were  not  packed  up.  Sometimes 
she  rang  violently  at  the  door,  said  she  had  been  robbed, 
and  reproached  the  lorette  with  her  expenditure ;  she 
compared  the  one  life  with  the  other,  accused  her  debtor 
of  being  insolvent,  and  crippled  with  debt,  and  ended  by 
asking  for  fresh  security. 

At  other  moments  she  came  suddenly  and  demanded 
money;  then  she  softened  down,  pleaded  poverty,  and  on 
leaving  shuffled  along  in  a  most  lamentable  way.  She 
accompanied  each  of  these  visits  with  a  deluge  of  tears.. 
These  came  at  her  bidding,  and  she  took  advantage  of 
that  circumstance  to  embarrass  people. 

Each  complaint  was  followed  by  a  sob.  she  twisted 
herself  about  pitifully  on  a  chair,  uttering  the  least  word 
in  a  doleful  tone  of  voice. 


124  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Armande,  weary  and  bewildered,  generally  stood  before 
her  without  being  able  to  pronounce  a  syllable.  At  times 
she  would  have  sacrificed  everything:  linen,  gowns,  furniture, 
to  have  been  freed  from  these  continual  lamentations. 

The  usurer  invented  another  kind  of  persecution.  She 
would  come  with  red  eyes,  declare  she  was  in  want  of 
bread,  and  was  dying.  The  young  woman,  aggravated 
and  quite  out  of  patience,  would  tell  her  to  sit  down  and 
eat.  Sometimes  she  would  shed  streams  of  tears  to  get 
sugar,  coffee,  or  brandy. 

"Alas!  My  dear  lady,"  she  snivelled,  "I  am  very 
unhappy.  This  morning  I  had  to  take  my  coffee  without 
sugar,  and  to-morrow  I  shall  have  neither  sugar  nor  coffee. 
Be  charitable.  It  is  you  who  have  brought  me  to  this; 
if  you  were  to  give  me  my  money,  I  should  not  be 
obliged  to  come  and  beg.  For  pity's  sake  let  me  have  a  few 
pounds  of  coffee  and  sugar.  That  will  count  for  all  the 
services  I  have  rendered  you." 

Armande  did  not  dare  refuse.  She  spent  her  last  few 
sous  trembling  in  the  presence  of  certain  savage,  bantering 
looks  of  her  creditor.  If  she  happened  to  say  she  had 
no  money  the  usurer  would  answer, 

"  Very  well,  I  shall  present  the  bill  you  gave  me  to 
your  lover " 

The  other  would  not  allow  her  to  proceed  any  further. 
She  sent  and  sold  something  and  purchased  what  her 
tormentor  required.  The  unfortunate  girl  closed  her  eyes 
in  order  not  to  see  the  chasm  gaping  before  her. 

She  belonged  to  this  woman  who  held  such  terrible 
proofs  against  her  in  her  hands,  and  she  obeyed  her, 
inwardly  irritated,  inquiring  of  herself  with  despair,  by 
what  means  she  could  escape  from  her  claws. 

Madame  Mercier  wept  for  nearly  two  years  and  extracted 
from  Armande  all  she  could.  She  never  went  away  with 
•empty  hands. 

The  money  she  had  lent  her  already  brought  her  in 
two  hundred  and  fifty  per  cent.  If  the  capital  was  com- 
promised, the  interest  covered  it  two  or  three  times  over. 
At  last  the  usurer  understood  that  she  must  change  her 
tactics.  Armande  could  not  receive  her  without  a  nervous 


MADAME  MERCIER   SHOWS   HER   CLAWS.       125 

shudder  which  must  inevitably  bring  about  a  crisis, 
Besides,  she  had  no  money  and  she  had  twice  firmly 
refused  to  give  her  sugar. 

From  that  moment  the  old  woman  resolved  to  weep 
no  more,  but  to  have  recourse  to  strong  measures.  It  only 
remained  to  her  to  play  all  for  all,  to  exact  immediate 
payment  of  the  arrears,  from  the  lorette,  by  threatening 
to  lodge  a  complaint  with  the  crown  attorney. 

She  had  had  the  prudence  not  to  manifest  the  least 
suspicion  anent  the  forged  bills  in  her  possession.  Her 
plan  was  soon  formed.  She  decided  she  would  call  on. 
the  young  woman  and  put  her  in  a  fearful  fright.  If  one 
of  her  protectors  happened  to  be  there,  she  would  apply 
to  him,  she  would  create  a  scandal  and  manage 
to  get  back  her  money  somehow.  She  wanted  to  devour 
her  prey  after  having  sucked  all  the  blood  from  her 
veins. 

An  acceptance  for  a  thousand  francs  which  Armande 
had  signed  with  Sauvaire's  name,  and  which  she  had  given 
Madame  Mercier  in  exchange  for  another  bill,  had  fallen 
due  on  the  previous  day.  The  old  woman  having  a 
pretext  to  be  angry  resolved  not  to  wait  any  longer.  She 
called  on  the  young  woman  just  at  the  time  when  Marius 
and  the  master  stevedore  were  there. 

Armande  was  quite  troubled  when  she  met  her  in  the 
ante-chamber.  She  dragged  her  to  the  farthest  corner  of 
a  small  boudoir  which  was  only  separated  from  the 
drawing-room  by  a  thin  door.  She  offered  her  a  seat 
with  the  timid  and  beseeching  look  of  an  insolvent  person 
to  her  creditor. 

"  What  do  you  mean,"  shouted  the  usurer,  refusing  the 
chair,  "you  are  making  fun  of  me,  my  good  lady! 
Another  bill  returned  unpaid!  I  am  tired  of  it  all." 

She  had  crossed  her  amis  and  spoke  in  a  loud  insolent 
voice.  Her  little  fat,  red  face  shone  with  anger.  Armande 
would  have  preferred  to  have  seen  her  crying  and  lamenting 
in  her  customary  drawling  tone  of  voice. 

"  For  mercy's  sake,"  she  exclaimed  frightened,  "  speak 
lower.  I  have  visitors.  You  know  in  what  an  embar- 
rassed position  I  find  myself.  Grant  me  a  few  days' grace." 


126  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Madame  Mercier  made  a  movement  of  impatience.  She 
stood  on  tip-toe  and  spoke  right  in  the  lorette's  face. 

"  What  care  I,  if  you  have  visitors  ?  "  she  continued, 
without  lowering  her  voice.  "  I  mean  to '  be  paid,  and 
immediately !  Madame  wears  hats  and  bonnets,  Madame 
goes  to  the  Chateau-des-Fleurs,  Madame  has  lovers  who 
provide  all  sorts  of  amusement  for  her!  Have  I  any 
lovers?  I  deprive  myself,  I  eat  dry  bread  and  drink 
water,  whereas  you  stuff  yourself  with  good  things.  That 
can't  last,  I  must  have  my  money,  or  I  will  take  you 
somewhere.  You  know  where,  don't  you  ?  " 

She  accompanied  these  words  with  a  threatening  look 
and  Armande  turned  quite  pale. 

"Ah!  That  ruffles  you,"  continued  the  old  woman, 
sneering.  "  You  must  have  taken  me  for  a  donkey !  If 
I  have  acted  like  one,  it  was  no  doubt  because  it  was  to 
my  interest  to  do  so. 

She  began  laughing  and  shrugging  her  shoulders.  Then 
she  added  violently  : 

"  If  you  don't  pay  me  to-night,  I  will  write  to-morrow 
to  the  crown  attorney." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  stammered 
Armande. 

The  old  woman  sat  down.  She  felt  she  was  mistress 
of  the  situation,  and  she  wanted  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of 
playing  for  a  moment  with  her  prey. 

"  Ah !  You  don't  know  what  I  mean,  when  I  speak  to 
you  of  the  crown  attorney,"  she  said,  making  a  frightful 
grimace  as  if  overcome  with  sudden  merriment.  "  But 
you  lie,  my  good  lady!  Look  at  yourself  in  that  glass: 
you  are  pallid,  own  that  you're  a  hussy." 

At  that  word  Armande  rose.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  had  just  received  a  cut  with  a  whip  across  the  face. 
Her  self-possession  returned  to  her,  and  showing  Madame 
Mercier  the  door,  she  exclaimed  in  a  loud  voice: 

"  Walk  out  at  once ! " 

"No,  I'll  not  go  out,"  answered  the  old  woman,  sitting 
back  in  an  arm-chair.  "  I  want  my  money.  If  you  touch 
me  I'll  shout  murder,  and  the  persons  who  are  in  your 
drawing-room  will  come  to  my  assistance.  I  told  you 


MADAME   MERCIER   SHOWS   HER   CLAWS.       127 

I  was  not  a  fool.  Pay  me  at  once  and  I'll  leave  you 
alone. 

"  I  have  no  money,"  answered  Armande  coldly. 

This  reply  exasperated  the  old  woman.  For  more  than 
a  year  it  had  been  given  her  regularly  at  each  of  her 
visits.  She  had  ended  by  taking  it  for  mockery. 

"You  have  no  money!  You  always  say  that,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  Give  me  your  furniture  and  gowns.  But  no, 
I  prefer  sending  you  to  prison.  I  will  go  and  lodge  a 
complaint,  I  will  accuse  you  of  forgery.  We  shall  see, 
my  beautiful  lady,  if  you  find  lovers  among  your  gaolers, 
who  will  treat  you  to  silk  gowns  and  tasty  meals." 

Armande  staggered,  losing  all  her  assurance,  fearing 
the  cries  of  the  old  woman  might  be  heard  by  Marius 
and  Sauvaire.  Her  creditor  saw  her  fright,  and  began 
shouting  still  louder. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  can  send  you  to  the  assizes  to- 
morrow. You  know  that,  don't  you  ?  I  have  over  ten 
false  acceptances  in  my  possession  on  which  you  have 
imitated  your  lovers'  signatures.  That's  nice  work.  I 
shall  go  and  find  each  of  these  gentlemen;  I  will  tell 
them  what  you  are,  and  they  will  cast  you  into  the  street. 
You  will  die  in  the  gutter." 

She  took  breath,  while  the  young  woman,  all  of  a 
tremble,  thought  of  strangling  her  to  make  her  silent. 

"But  that  reminds  me,"  she  continued,  "you  have 
visitors.  Perhaps  in  your  drawing-room  there  is  one  of 
those  gentlemen  whose  name  you  have  stolen  to  make 
money  out  of.  I'll  go  and  see.  It  is  necessary  I  should 
find  out.  Let  me  pass." 

She  moved  towards  the  door.  Armande  placed  herself 
in  front  of  her,  with  extended  arms,  ready  to  strike  her 
if  she  advanced. 

"You  want  to  strike  me,  I  who  have  fed  you,  who 
have  lent  you  my  money,"  stammered  the  female  usurer 
suffocating  with  rage. 

And  she  stepped  backward  shouting  : 

"Help!     Help!" 

Armande  faced  sharply  round  to  turn  the  key  in  the 
lock.  But  it  was  too  late.  The  door  had  just 


128  THE  MYSTERIES  OF   MARSEILLES. 

opened  and  she  found  herself  face  to  face  with  Marius 
and  Sauvaire,  who  were  gazing  into  the  boudoir  in  an 
anxious  and  curious  manner. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WHICH   SHOWS   THAT   THE   POSITION   OF  A  LORETTE 
IS   NOT   WITHOUT  ITS   TROUBLES. 

SAUVAIRE  and  Marius  had  been  about  half-an-hour  alone 
in  the  drawing-room.  The  young  man  would  willingly 
have  withdrawn,  but  he  considered  it  uncivil  to  do  so 
without  first  of  all  taking  leave  of  the  mistress  of  the 
house.  He  therefore  feigned  to  be  listening  to  the  steve- 
dore's stories. 

The  sound  of  loud  voices  soon  reached  them.  Little 
by  little  the  noise  increased  to  such  a  pitch  that  both  of 
them  lent  the  ear,  being  unable  to  appear  discreet  any 
longer. 

Just  then  the  shout:  "Help!  Help!"  made  them  start 
up  and  open  the  door  communicating  with  the  boudoir. 

A  strange  sight  awaited  them.  As  soon  as  they  made 
their  appearance  Armande  stepped  back  staggering,  and 
let  herself  fall  into  an  arm-chair.  With  her  head  between 
her  hands  she  burst  out  sobbing,  quite  broken  down, 
without  raising  her  face  or  uttering  a  word. 

The  old  woman,  in  a  rage,  with  inflamed  countenance, 
approached  the  two  men  and  began  speaking  to  them 
with  passionate  verbosity.  From  time  to  time  she  broke 
off  to  turn  round  and  shake  her  fist  at  Armande,  who 
was  so  upset  by  despair,  which  made  her  tremble  all  over 
her  body,  that  she  did  not  hear  her. 

"You  saw  it,  did  you  not?"  repeated  the  old  woman. 
"She  wanted  to  beat  me.  She  had  her  arm  in  the  air. 
Ah !  the  wretch !  Just  fancy,  my  good  gentlemen,  I  have 
given  that  woman  all  my  money.  I  like  to  be  of  service. 
Besides,  I  thought  she  was  honest.  She  has  made  me 
discount  acceptances  signed  by  honourable  persons;  I 
thought  I  had  good  security.  Now  I  learn  that  the  bills 


THE   TROUBLES   OF   A   LORETTE.  I2Q 

are  false  and  that  I  have  been  shamefully  robbed.  What 
would  you  have  done  in  my  place?  I  reproached  her 
with  her  abominable  conduct  and  then  she  threatened  to 
strike  me." 

Sauvaire  opened  his  eyes  in  astonishment,  gazing  first 
of  all  at  Armande's  dejection  and  then  at  Madame 
Mercier's  anger.  He  approached  the  young  woman  and 
exclaimed : 

"  Come,  my  dear,  defend  yourself.  This  women  lies, 
doesn't  she?  You  have  not  done  anything  so  stupid. 
Come,  speak !  " 

Armande  did  not  move,  but  continued  sobbing. 

"Oli!  She'll  not  speak,  she'll  not  defend  herself," 
continued  the  woman  usurer,  in  triumph.  "  She  knows  very 
well  that  I  am  in  possession  of  the  proofs.  I  shall  write 
to-morrow  morning  to  the  crown  attorney." 

Marius,  painfully  surprised,  cast  a  look  of  pity  on 
Armande.  Chance  had  brought  him  face  to  face  with 
another  shame,  another  human  misery.  He  remembered 
the  sad  scene  when  Charles  Bletry  was  arrested  in  his 
presence  and  a  feeling  of  mercy  overcame  him  in  face  of 
this  woman  whom  vice  had  brought  to  infamy.  He  half 
guessed  the  circumstances  that  had  urged  her  on  to  crime, 
he  understood  how  necessity,  from  fall  to  fall,  had  brought 
her  to  the  gutter.  He  would  have  liked  to  have  saved 
her,  to  have  brought  her  back  to  a  life  of  honesty,  to  have 
given  her  the  means  of  extricating  herself  from  the  sewer. 

"Why  do  you  wish  to  ruin  her?"  he  quietly  inquired 
of  the  old  woman.  "You  will  not  be  paid  any  the  quicker. 
Don't  overwhelm  her.  On  the  contrary,  give  her  a  chance 
to  recover  herself  and  pay  you  back." 

"  No,  no !  "  mercilessly  answered  the  old  woman,  "  I  want 
her  to  go  to  prison.  I  have  waited  too  long  already. 
Yesterday,  again,  she  failed  to  meet  a  bill  of  a  thousand 
francs  which  she  had  made  payable  here.  She  signed 
that  bill  'Sauvaire,'  the  name  of  one  of  her  admirers, 
no  doubt." 

The  master  stevedore,  on  hearing  himself  referred  to, 
started.  The  sum  of  a  thousand  alarmed  him. 

"  You  say  you  have  an  acceptance  of  a  thousand  francs 


130  THE  MYSTERIES    OF   MARSEILLES. 

signed    'Sauvaire'?"    he   inquired,  with  an  appearance  of 
something  very  much  like  terror. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  old  woman.  "  I  brought  it 
with  me,  it  is  in  my  basket." 

"  Show  it  me,  if  you  please." 

Sauvaire  turned  the  bill  over  in  his  fingers,  studying  the 
handwriting  very  closely,  and  was  confounded. 

"By  Jupiter,"  he  exclaimed,  "it's  perfectly  imitated!" 

He  leant  over  towards  Armande,  who  was  doubled  up 
with  grief,  and  continued  in  a  dry  tone  of  voice : 

"Look  here,  my  dear,  no  nonsense!  I  will  never  pay 
that,  you  know.  The  deuce!  I'd  willingly  give  you  a 
hundred  francs;  but  a  thousand!  It's  too  much." 

He  no  longer  spoke  familiarly  to  her,  he  even  began 
to  regret  his  excursion  into  the  demi-monde  of  Marseilles. 

"Oh!  That's  not  the  only  one  I've  got,"  continued 
Madame  Mercier;  "I've  many  others  in  my  possession 
bearing  different  names.  However,  if  this  one  were  paid, 
I  would  agree  not  to  say  anything.  I  would  continue 
to  wait." 

Marius'  sensible  remarks  had  made  her  understand  that 
it  would  be  better  not  to  lodge  a  complaint,  and  as  she  had 
Sauvaire  beside  her  she  was  in  hopes  he  would  pay.  She 
became  quite  tender,  changed  her  plans  and  began  to 
excuse  Armande. 

"After  all,"  she  said,  "I  don't  know  that  the  other 
bills  are  false.  The  poor  little  woman  has  had  a  rough 
time.  You  must  not  be  angry  with  her,  sir.  She  is  a 
very  good  person  at  heart."  And  she  began  to  shed 
warm  tears. 

Marius  could  not  restrain  a  smile.  Sauvaire  walked  up 
and  down,  excited,  grumbling  angrily.  He  cared  very 
little  about  Armande's  infamous  conduct,  he  was  simply 
irritated  at  the  struggle  between  egotism  and  generosity 
that  was  taking  place  within  him. 

"  No,  decidedly ! "  he  exclaimed  at  last,  "  I  can  do 
nothing." 

Armande,  buried  in  her  arm-chair,  continued  sobbing 
in  a  low,  broken-hearted  manner.  This  woman  who  had 
known  all  the  delight  of  luxury  and  adoration,  suffered 


THE  TROUBLES   OF   A  LORETTE.  131 

bitterly  at  having  fallen  so  low.  There  she  was,  degraded, 
with  her  misery  and  shame  brought  home  to  her,  and  she 
was  seized  with  despair  when  her  thoughts  went  back  to 
her  elegance  and  wealth  of  former  times.  She  would  never 
rise  again;  she  would  fall  still  lower,  become  the  last  of 
creatures.  And  she  was  all  the  more  upset  at  the  thought 
that  her  disgrace  would  be  public.  The  presence  of  Sauvaire 
and  Marius  gave  her  additional  pain. 

Her  silent  grief  produced  a  strange  effect  on  Marius, 
who  was  weak  in  the  presence  of  tears.  He  would  willingly 
have  given  the  old  woman  her  thousand  francs  if  he  had 
had  them.  After  a  painful  silence  he  addressed  Sauvaire 
who  was  taking  great  strides  about  the  room,  very  much 
annoyed. 

"Come,  sir,"  he  said  to  him,  "this  woman  must  be 
saved.  Her  own  sobs  plead  her  cause  better  than  I  could 
do.  You  are  fond  of  her  and  will  not  abandon  her  in  her 
despair." 

"Eh!  Yes,  I  was  fond  of  her,"  answered  the  master 
stevedore  sharply,  "  and  I  think  I  have  shown  it  sufficiently, 
during  the  last  three  months.  Do  you  know  that  I  have 
already  spent  nearly  five  thousand  francs  with  her.  I'll 
give  no  more.  So  much  the  worse!  She  must  get  out 
of  it  as  she  can.  It  would  be  a  thousand  francs  thrown 
into  the  street.  What  enjoyment  shall  I  have  for  this 
money  if  I  give  it  her?" 

"You  will  have  done  a  good  action.  Her  behaviour 
is  scandalous,  and  I  am  not  trying  to  excuse  her;  only, 
I  think  I  can  guess  how  it  was  she  became  a  forger,  and 
I  could  plead  her  cause." 

"Oil!  all  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  me.  She  did 
what  she  pleased.  You  see  I  am  not  angry.  I  am 
simply  going  to  place  myself  beyond  all  this  disagreeable 
business." 

Marius  was  getting  discouraged,  he  remembered  what 
Fine  had  related  to  him  about  the  master-stevedore's  vanity, 
and  he  continued  in  a  careless  way : 

"Let's  say  no  more  about  it.  I  spoke  to  you  thus 
because  I  knew  you  were  very  rich  and  very  generous. 
Sooner  or  later  the  account  of  your  good  action  would 


132  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

have  been  mooted  abroad,  and  you  would  have  won,  in 
this  affair,  more  than  a  thousand  francs  worth  of  praise." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Sauvaire  hesitating. 

"  I  am  certain.  Few  men  would  be  so  generous,  and 
for  that  reason  it  would  be  positively  glorious  to  save  this 
woman.  But  let  us  say  no  more  about  it." 

Sauvaire  ceased  walking  about.  He  stopped  in  the  centre 
of  the  room  and  began  to  think. 

Madame  Mercier,  who  saw  him  hesitating,  and  who  was 
experiencing  thrills  of  desire,  at  the  idea  of  receiving  a 
thousand  francs,  thought  she  had  better  intervene.  She  had 
resumed  her  tearful  voice  and  her  humble,  gentle  manner : 

"Ah!  sir,"  she  said  to  Sauvaire,  "if  you  only  knew  how 
this  poor  little  woman  adores  you !  There  are  very  wealthy 
men  who  have  tried  to  take  your  place.  She  has  refused 
all  offers,  and  it  is  perhaps  that  which  has  placed  her  in 
straitened  circumstances  and  prevented  her  repairing  the 
faults  she  has  committed.  You  cannot  imagine  how  closely 
she  clings  to  you." 

The  master  stevedore  felt  very  much  nattered  at  these 
remarks.  From  the  moment  his  self-esteem  was  in  question 
the  matter  bore  a  different  complexion. 

"Very  well!  Be  it  so,"  he  said,  "I'll  give  the  thousand 
francs.  I'll  take  them  to  you  to-morrow  evening.  Now 
withdraw.  Leave  madame  alone." 

The  old  woman  bowed  with  servile  humility  and  went 
quietly  away,  closing  the  doors  without  the  least  noise. 

Armande  had  raised  her  head.  Her  face  flushed  with 
tears  seemed  to  have  grown  older.  All  upset  with  fright 
and  feverish  with  shame,  she  rose  with  difficulty  and  wanted 
to  kneel  down  before  Marius  and  Sauvaire. 

The  young  man  held  her  up  whilst  the  master  stevedore 
said: 

"Come!  my  dear,  it's  all  over.  I  accept  your  thanks, 
and  trust  my  good  action  will  be  profitable  to  you." 

The  truth  was  that  Sauvaire  no  longer  found  any  charm 
in  Armande.  He  had  just  perceived  that  the  poor  creature 
was  faded,  and  he  had  received  too  hard  a  lesson  to  forget 
himself  any  longer  in  the  boudoirs  of  the  demi-monde. 
He  began  to  prefer  the  grisette. 


THE   TROUBLES   OF   A   LORETTE.  133 

The  two  men  withdrew,  and  at  the  door  Armande 
•warmly  kissed  Marius'  hand.  She  saw  that  he  felt  real 
and  profound  pity  for  her,  and  she  thanked  him  for 
having  saved  her. 

The  following  night  Sauvaire  called  to  fetch  Marius  to 
accompany  him  to  Madame  Mercier's.  The  female  usurer 
occupied  a  filthy  house  in  the  Rue  clu  Pave  d'Amour. 
The  two  visitors  ascended  three  flights  of  stairs  and 
knocked,  without  obtaining  an  answer,  at  a  blackened,  damp 
door.  The  noise  they  made  brought  out  a  neighbour 
who  informed  them  that  the  "  wicked  old  woman"  had  been 
arrested  that  morning. 

"The  police,"  said  this  person,  "had  been  on  her 
track  for  some  days.  It  seems  a  complaint  had  been 
lodged  against  her.  All  the-  tenants  were  delighted  at  her 
arrest.  She  only  just  had  time  to  burn  the  papers  likely 
to  compromise  her." 

Marius  understood  that  Armande  had  been  saved  by 
Providence.  He  made  inquiries  of  the  people  at  the 
house  and  acquired  the  certitude  that  the  old  woman  had 
burnt  all  the  acceptances  signed  by  the  lorette,  fearing 
that  their  possession  might  constitute  other  charges 
against  her;  for  she  guessed  that  if  Armande  found  her- 
self implicated,  she  would  tell  the  truth  and  give  the 
most  overwhelming  details.  Besides,  by  destroying  the 
securities  she  lost  nothing,  as  she  had  long  since  recov- 
ered her  advances. 

Sauvaire  was  particularly  delighted  at  their  adventure. 
He  carried  off  the  thousand  francs  triumphantly.  He  had 
been  enabled  to  give  a  proof  of  his  generosity  without 
spending  a  sou.  It  was  all  profit. 

"  You  are  a  witness  that  I  was  going  to  give  the 
money,"  he  said  to  Marius.  "That  is  how  I  am.  I  like  to 
be  generous,  I  throw  money  out  of  the  window.  Oh!  a 
gift  of  a  thousand  francs  does  not  trouble  me,  when  it's  a 
question  of  paying  for  my  amusement." 

Marius  allowed  him  to  expatiate  on  his  good  qualities, 
and  ran  off  to  Armande  to  tell  her  the  good  news. 

He  found  the  young  woman  sad  and  troubled.  She 
had  passed  an  atrocious  night,  struggling  mentally  with  her 


134  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

misfortunes,  in  search  of  a  supreme  means  of  extricating 
herself  from  the  infamy  in  which  she  was  plunged. 

When  she  learned  that  the  forged  acceptances  had 
been  destroyed,  that  she  had  recovered  her  liberty,  she 
was  as  if  transformed.  She  kissed  Marius  passionately, 
and  vowed  to  him  that  she  would  take  advantage  of  the 
lesson  and  change  her  mode  of  life. 

"I  will  work,"  she  said,  "I  will  conduct  myself  like  a 
respectable  woman.  Then  only  will  I  ask  you  to  return 
me  your  friendship.  Good-bye!" 

Marius  left  her,  quite  moved  by  her  decision  and  pro- 
mises. When  he  was  alone  he  reproached  himself  with 
his  abnegation :  for  two  days  he  had  been  living  beyond 
himself,  without  giving  a  thought  to  his  brother's  safety. 

When  Fine  inquired  the  result  of  his  errand,  he  did 
not  dare  relate  to  her  the  dramatic  scenes  at  which  he 
had  been  present ;  he  limited  himself  to  telling  her  that 
there  was  no  hope  of  borrowing  the  money  from  Sauvaire, 
and  that  Armande  was  closing  her  drawing-room. 

"  Where  will  you  go  now,  then  ? "  inquired  the  flower- 
girl. 

"  I  know  not,"  he  answered,  "  However,  I  have  a  plan 
which  I  am  going  to  put  into  execution." 


CHAPTER  V. 
DOUGLAS,   THE   NOTARY. 

MARIUS  had  returned  to  M.  Martelly's  and  resumed  his 
duties,  finding  a  sort  of  peacefulness  in  his  work.  His 
thoughts  ran  freer  amidst  the  silence  and  calm  of  his 
office.  He  told  himself  that  he  had  four  months  in  which 
to  come  to  Philippe's  assistance,  and  he  would  reflect  for 
hours  together  as  to  the  best  means  to  be  employed. 

M.  Martelly  continued  to  treat  him  as  he  would  a  son. 

Sometimes  the  young  man  thought  of  telling  him  every- 
thing and  of  borrowing  the  fifteen  thousand  francs  of  him. 
But  a  fear,  a  timidity  prevented  him;  he  dreaded  his 
employer's  republican  sternness.  So  he  resolved  to  continue 


DOUGLAS,   THE  NOTARY.  135 

the  struggle,  to  exhaust  all  possible  means  before  applying 
to  the  shipowner.  Later  on,  when  he  had  unsuccessfully 
tried  everything  else,  he  would  make  up  his  mind  to  tell 
him  of  his  difficulty  and  implore  his  kind  assistance. 

Meanwhile,  he  determined  he  would  not  again  behave 
like  a  simpleton  and  take  any  useless  step.  For  a  moment, 
he  thought  of  earning  the  necessary  amount  himself.  The 
high  figure  frightened  him,  and  he  saw  very  well  that  he 
could  never  put  by  such  a  sum  in  four  months.  Yet  he 
felt  bold  enough  to  move  mountains. 

It  recurred  to  him  that  Douglas,  the  notary  whose  aid 
M.  Martelly  had  vainly  asked  for  Philippe,  had  for  some 
months  past  been  offering  to  employ  him  as  agent,  acting 
under  power  of  attorney  for  some  of  his  clients.  The 
notary  and  the  ship-owner  were  connected  in  various 
business  matters,  and  M.  Martelly  often  sent  Marius  to 
settle  different  accounts  with  Douglas.  One  day,  on  calling 
there,  the  young  man  decided  to  accept  the  offer  that 
had  been  made  him  :  if  the  profits  were  small,  he  might, 
when  he  had  become  better  known,  succeed  in  obtaining 
a  loan. 

The  notary  lived  in  a  house  of  simple  and  austere 
appearance.  The  offices  occupied  the  entire  first  floor ; 
there  was  quite  a  crowd  of  clerks  seated  along  stained 
deal  tables,  in  the  large  cold  bare  rooms.  Luxury  had 
never  penetrated  into  those  rooms  full  of  prodigious  activity 
and  a  kind  of  honest  roughness.  One  felt  oneself  to  be 
in  the  abode  of  a  man  who  never  forgot  himself  amid 
the  joys  of  life. 

About  ten  years  before,  Douglas  had  succeeded  to  the 
practice  of  a  person  named  Imbert,  whose  clerk  he  had 
been  for  more  than  twelve  years.  He  was  then  an  intel- 
ligent and  active  young  fellow,  with  a  passion  for  business, 
and  ever  dreaming  of  monster  speculations.  The  fever 
for  trade  and  manufacture  that  was  passing  over  France 
heated  his  blood  and  filled  him  with  strong  ambition ; 
he  wished  to  earn  vast  sums  of  money,  not  in  order  to 
live  in  opulence,  but  because  he  tasted  a  keen  voluptuous- 
ness in  unravelling  all  monetarv  matters,  and  in  guiding 
the  undertakings  he  embarked  upon  to  success.  At  the 


136  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

outset  he  felt  himself  too  restricted  in  his  notary's  practice. 
He  was  a  born  banker,  and  his  hands  were  formed  for 
manipulating  large  sums  of  money.  His  profession,  with 
its  quiet  dealings  and  almost  sacred  and  paternal  character, 
did  not  in  the  least  suit  his  stock -jobbing  nature..  He 
felt  out  of  his  element,  for  all  his  instincts  urged  him  to 
turn  the  money  deposited  with  him  to  account.  He  could 
not  reconcile  himself  to  being  a  disinterested  intermediary, 
and  he  launched  into  panting  and  feverish  speculations, 
which  later  on  turned  him  into  a  great  criminal. 

He  paid  the  purchase  money  of  his  practice  in  a  few 
months,  without  anyone  knowing  how  he  had  obtained 
the  necessary  capital.  Then  he  displayed  febrile  activity. 
In  a  very  short  time  his  practice  developed  considerably. 
He  became  the  first  notary  of  Marseilles,  opening  his 
doors  wide  and  securing  fresh  clients  every  day.  His 
mode  of  proceeding  was  extremely  simple :  he  never  denied 
himself  to  any  client,  and  listened  to  every  application; 
he  always  found  money  for  those  who  wanted  to  borrow, 
and  always  had  excellent  investments  for  those  who 
deposited  their  cash  with  him.  A  considerable  turnover 
of  capital  thus  took  place  through  the  intermediary  of 
his  office. 

At  first,  people  were  surprised  at  his  rapid  success.  They 
talked  of  imprudence,  and  considered  that  the  young 
notary  was  going  too  quickly  ahead,  and  was  undertaking 
a  burden  too  heavy  for  his  shoulders.  Besides  this,  no 
one  could  make  out  how  he  managed  to  meet  the  calls 
occasioned  by  the  continual  increase  of  his  practice.  But 
Douglas  calmed  public  anxiety  by  the  simplicity  of  his 
life.  He  was  believed  to  be  very  wealthy,  yet  he  dressed 
quietly,  displayed  not  the  slightest  luxury,  and  denied 
himself  all  pleasures.  Everyone  knew  that  he  led  a  sober 
existence,  eating  only  plain  food,  living,  in  fact,  like  a  petty 
shop-keeper.  He  was  also  very  pious,  gave  a  great  deal 
in  charity,  went  to  church  and  remained  kneeling  during 
the  whole  length  of  the  service.  By  these  means  he 
acquired  the  reputation  of  an  honest  man,  and  this  went  on 
increasing  daily.  He  came  to  be  cited  at  last  as  a  model 
of  piety  and  honour.  His  name  was  respected  and  beloved. 


DOUGLAS,  THE  NOTARY.          137 

It  had  taken  him  barely  six  years  to  arrive  at  this 
position;  and  now,  during  six  years  he  had  been  at  the 
head  of  the  Marseilles'  notaries :  his  office  was  the  most 
frequented,  and  the  one  that  did  the  most  business. 
Wealthy  people  made  a  point  of  employing  this  modest 
and  pious  man  endowed  with  every  virtue.  The  nobility 
and  clergy  supported  him ;  the  commercial  world  had 
ended  by  feeling  unlimited  confidence  in  his  loyalty.  The 
position  was  won,  and  Douglas  was  feverishly  turning  it 
to  account. 

He  was  then  about  forty-five  years  old,  a  strong,  thick- 
set man,  inclined  to  stoutness.  His  face,  always  clean- 
shaven, was  deathly  pale;  the  flesh  seemed  inanimate,  the 
eyes  alone  showing  signs  of  life.  He  looked  like  a  verger 
turned  banker.  Beneath  his  gentle  exterior,  one  could 
hear  a  kind  of  muffled  roar :  no  doubt  the  blood  was 
coursing  fiercely  in  this  struggler's  body  which  seemed 
asleep.  When  he  conversed  in  his  drawling  tones,  his 
voice  occasionally  rose  to  a  pitch  which  revealed  the 
internal  fever  consuming  him.  He  was  always  to  be  found 
in  his  private  room,  a  cold  apartment,  poorly  furnished. 
There  was  generally  a  priest  or  a  nun  in  the  ante-chamber. 
The  door  was  left  open  and  it  was  easy  for  anyone  to 
find  the  chief.  He  displayed  his  charity,  contempt  for 
luxury,  and  austere  good-nature  even  rather  too  compla- 
cently. 

Marius  felt  a  real  sympathy  for  this  man  whose  simple 
virtues  quite  won  his  heart.  He  delighted  in  calling  upon 
him.  On  this  particular  day,  after  discussing  with  Douglas 
the  business  upon  which  M.  Martelly  had  sent  him,  the 
young  man  added,  hesitatingly: 

"  I  wish  now,  sir,  to  speak  to  you  on  a  private  matter, 
only,  I  am  afraid  I  mav  be  trespassing  on  your  time." 

"  Not  at  all!  my  dear  friend,"  said  the  notarv  cordially, 
"  I  am  quite  at  your  service.  I  have  already  offered  you 
my  assistance,  and  my  house  is  open  to  you." 

"I  remember  your  kind  offers,  and  I  wish  to  remind 
you  of  what  you  said  to  me  some  months  ago." 

"I  told  you  that  it  only  rested  with  yourself  to  earn 
some  money  with  me.  I  should  like  to  assist  a  young 


138  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

fellow  like  you  by  putting  your  willingness  and  courage 
to  the  proof.  What  I  told  you  then  I  repeat  to-day." 

"I  thank  you  and  -accept,"  replied  Marius  simply,  much 
affected  by  Douglas'  frank  and  generous  ways.  The  latter, 
on  hearing  the  young  man's  words,  started  with  joy.  He 
turned  his  chair  round  quickly  and  indicated  another  seat 
to  his  visitor. 

"Sit  down  and  let  us  talk,"  he  said.  "I  can  only  give 
you  a  few  minutes.  I  like  young  men  such  as  you;  not 
afraid  of  work  and  speaking  their  minds  freely.  You  do 
not  know  how  happy  you  make  me  by  placing  me  in  the 
position  to  be  useful  to  you."  He  smiled,  and  every  word 
he  uttered  was  like  a  caress.  "Well,  this  is  the  matter 
in  question,"  he  continued.  "As  some  of  my  clients  do 
not  reside  at  Marseilles,  I  have  had  to  find  a  means  of 
facilitating  their  transactions.  I  have  therefore  obtained 
several  agents  acting  under  power  of  attorney  to  represent 
the  absent  parties  and  who  look  after  these  persons'  pro- 
perties. Whenever  one  of  my  clients  is,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  unable  to  attend  personally  to  his  affairs,  he 
leaves  with  me  a  blank  power  of  attorney,  depending  on 
me  to  find  some  upright  party  who  will  faithfully  fulfil  his 
duties.  I  know  that  you  are  an  active  and  honest  fellow, 
and  I  offer  you  the  position  of  representing  two  or  three 
landlords  whose  powers  of  attorney  I  have  by  me.  There 
is  only  your  name  to  fill  in,  and  you  will  receive  five  per 
cent,  upon  all  the  transactions  you  carry  out." 

He  spoke  in  a  calm  and  simple  tone  of  voice.  Marius 
was  frightened  at  the  responsibility  of  such  a  position; 
but  he  felt  so  sure  of  his  uprightness  that  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  accept. 

"I  am  at  your  commands,"  he  said  to  Douglas.  "You 
must  guide  and  advise  me.  I  know  I  shall  have  nothing 
to  fear  in  obeying  you  in  everything." 

"So  as  not  to  overwhelm  you  at  the  outset,"  resumed 
the  notary  rising,  "  I  will  only  entrust  you  with  two  powers 
of  attorney  to  begin  with." 

He  took  some  papers  and  returned  to  his  table,  where 
he  read  out  the  two  documents  after  having  filled 
in  Marius'  name.  The  powers  conferred  were  practically 


DOUGLAS,    THE   NOTARY.  139 

unlimited  :  the  right  to  sell  and  buy,  mortgage,  and  bring 
or  defend  actions.  When  the  notary  had  finished  reading 
he  added : 

"  I  must  now  give  you  some  information  respecting  the 
persons  you  are  to  represent."  He  handed  Marius  one 
of  the  documents,  and  went  on:  "This,  to  begin  with, 
is  the  authorization  of  my  friend  and  client,  M.  Authier, 
of  Lambesc.  He  is  just  now  at  Cherbourg,  and  will  be 
shortly  starting  for  New  York,  to  take  possession  of  a 
large  fortune  that  has  been  left  him.  He  purchased  at 
Marseilles,  before  his  departure,  a  building  in  the  Rue 
de  Rome.  You  will  administer  the  property  during  his 
absence.  I  am  expecting  to  receive  his  instructions  to- 
morrow, and  I  will  inform  you  of  them." 

He   then  took  up  the  other  document,  and  continued : 

"And  this  is  the  authorization  of  M.  Mouttct,  a  retired 
merchant  at  Toulon,  who  entrusted  me  with  the  capital 
necessary  for  taking  a  mortgage  on  a  country  house  in  the 
Saint  Just  district.  He  has  just  remitted  a  further  sum 
which  lie  wishes  to  have  invested  in  the  same  way ;  but 
as  he  is  a  great  sufferer  from  gout,  he  has  asked  me  to 
find  someone  who,  acting  under  his  power  of  attorney, 
would  give  the  necessary  signatures  in  his  stead.  Come 
back  to-morrow,  and  we  can  then  arrange  finally  about 
the  two  matters." 

Douglas  rose  as  a  hint  that  the  interview  was  at  an 
end.  At  the  door,  he  shook  Marius'  hand  witli  rough 
and  cordial  familiarity. 

The  young  man  withdrew,  rather  stunned  by  the  rapidity 
of  what  had  taken  place.  He  was  surprised  at  the  facility 
with  which  the  notarv  had  entrusted  him  with  such 
important  matters,  and  felt  ill  at  ease  as  he  thought  of 
the  heavy  responsibility  about  to  weigh  upon  him. 


140  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MARIUS   SEEKS   UNSUCCESSFULLY   FOR  A   HOUSE 
AND  A  MAN. 

MARIUS  called  on  Douglas  the  next  day  to  receive  his 
final  instructions. 

"Come,  you're  punctual,"  said  the  notary  smiling. 
"  You'll  see,  we  shall  do  plenty  of  business  together.  I 
intend  to  make  you  rich.  Sit  down,  I'll  attend  to  you  in 
a  minute." 

Douglas  was  lunching  at  the  corner  of  his  table.  He 
was  eating  stale  bread  with  a  few  nuts,  and  drinking  plain 
water.  This  frugality  impressed  Marius  and  removed  the 
uneasiness  he  had  hitherto  felt.  Such  a  sober  man  could 
not  lead  him  into  shady  transactions ;  his  was  undoubtedly 
a  heart  in  the  right  place,  an  upright  soul,  a  sincere  and 
pious  mind  devoted  to  its  duty  like  a  priest  devotes  him- 
self to  God. 

"Now  let's  talk,"  said  the  notary,  when  he  had  finished 
his  repast.  "  I  have  received  a  letter  from  M.  Authier 
who  wishes  to  raise  money  on  his  house,  as  he  requires 
funds  for  his  journey.  Here's  his  letter." 

Marius  took  the  paper  that  Douglas  held  out  to  him. 
As  he  appeared  to  be  looking  for  the  post-office  stamps, 
the  notary  said  hastily: 

"  The  letter  was  enclosed  in  a  large  envelope  which 
contained  several  other  documents." 

The  young  man  coloured  up,  fearing  he  had  wounded 
his  new  employer's  feelings.  He  read  M.  Authier's  letter 
which  indeed  asked  to  have  money  raised  on  the  house 
in  the  Rue  de  Rome.  He  instructed  Douglas  to  make 
use  of  the  power  of  attorney  and  to  remit  him  the  money 
at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  When  Marius  had  finished 
reading  the  letter,  the  notary  resumed: 

"  This  request  for  a  loan  comes  at  the  right  moment, 
for  M.  Mouttet  has  again  been  asking  me  to  find  him  a 
safe  and  advantageous  investment.  As  you  are  now  the 
authorized  representative  of  both  my  clients,  the  lender, 


MARIUS   SEEKS   A   HOUSE  AND   A   MAX.        141 

and  the  borrower,  you  will  be  able  to  satisfy  them  both 
at  once.  You  have  simply  to  give  me  your  signature,  and 
I  will  transmit  to  M.  Authier  the  cash  that  M.  Mouttet 
sent  me  for  investment." 

Marius  thought  Douglas  was  settling  matters  rather 
quickly.  He  would  have  liked  to  have  seen  the  building, 
and  to  have  exchanged  at  least  a  letter  or  two  with  the 
persons  he  was  to  represent.  He  did  not  doubt  the  no- 
tary's good  faith,  but  he  was  unable  to  get  rid  of  some 
vague  and  inexplicable  fear.  His  uneasiness  of  the  day 
before  was  returning;  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was 
descending  into  some  black  hole,  and  Douglas'  smiles  and 
soft  voice  troubled  him  strangely.  He  could  not  define 
the  peculiar  sensation  that  was  creeping  over  him,  he  felt 
a  need  of  reaction.  The  notary  was  already  sorting  out 
the  documents  which  he  required  Marius  to  sign. 

"Ah!  the  deuce!"  said  he,  stopping  suddenly,  "there's 
one  paper  wanting.  I  must  send  a  clerk  to  the  mortgage 
office  for  it."  Douglas  seemed  very  much  put  out. 

Marius,  as  though  urged  on  by  some  instinct,  and  obeying 
the  feeling  of  uneasiness  which  had  taken  possession  of 
him,  rose  hastily. 

"I  cannot  wait,"  he  said,  "I  ought  alreadv  to  be  at 
M.  Martelly's.  Put  off  the  signing  of  the  documents,  please, 
until  Monday,  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"Very  well!  "  said  the  notary,  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 
"  I  would  rather  have  finished  the  matter  to-day.  You 
know  in  what  a  hurry  M.  Authier  is.  However,  come  on 
Monday." 

Marius  breathed  more  freely  when  he  found  himself  in 
the  street.  He  thought  he  had  been  childish  and  felt 
ashamed  of  the  vague  suspicions  he  had  entertained.  He 
had  almost  run  off  under  the  spell  of  some  indefinable 
feeling,  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  after  the  manner 
of  a  person  who  had  been  frightened  of  his  shadow.  He 
was  glad,  however,  to  have  two  days  during  which  he 
could  think  matters  over,  and  account  for  his  repugnance 
and  overcome  it. 

During  the  afternoon,  he  received  a  visit  at  M.  Mar- 
tcllv's  office  which  delighted  him.  M.  dc  Girousse, 


142  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

who  was  killing  time  by  visiting  all  the  towns  of  the 
department,  called  upon  him.  He  had  just  reached  Marseilles, 
and  was  leaving  the  same  evening. 

"Ah  !  my  dear  friend,"  said  he  to  the  clerk,  "how  lucky 
you  are  to  be  poor  and  to  have  to  work  for  your  living ! 
You've  no  idea  how  bored  I  feel.  If  I  could,  I  would 
change  places  with  your  brother:  I  think  I  should  enjoy 
myself  more  in  prison." 

Marius  smiled  at  the  old  count's  strange  ideas,  whilst 
the  latter  continued  : 

"Philippe's  trial  helped  to  keep  me  going  for  a  month. 
I  never  before  assisted  at  such  a  fine  spectacle  of  human 
misery  and  folly.  I  had  a  violent  desire  when  in  court 
to  get  up  and  say  all  I  thought.  They  would  no  doubt 
have  put  me  into  a  strait-waistcoat.  Lambesc  is  becoming 
uninhabitable." 

Ever  since  M.  de  Girousse  had  put  in  an  appearance, 
Marius  had  been  thinking  of  asking  him  to  give  him  some 
information  respecting  M.  Authier.  He  thought  the  count 
must  surely  know  this  man  who  belonged  to  the  same 
little  town  as  himself,  according  to  what  Douglas  had 
said.  He  attempted  to  assume  an  indifferent  air  as  he 
observed : 

"  But  yet  there  are  some  rich  people  at  Lambesc.  You 
might  cultivate  their  society  and  amuse  yourself  more.  Do 
you  know  M.  Authier,  a  landlord  in  your  neighbourhood, 
I  believe  ?  " 

"M.  Authier,"  repeated  the  old  nobleman,  trying  to 
remember,  "  M.  Authier,  I  can  recall  no  one  of  that  name 
at  Lambesc.  And  you  say  the  gentleman  owns  property 
there  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  has  recently  bought  a  house  at  Marseilles, 
and  he  must  have  a  pretty  extensive  estate  close  to  your 
own." 

M.  de  Girousse  was  still  thinking  hard. 

"  You  must  be  mistaken,"  he  said,  at  length.  "  I  certainly 
know  no  M.  Authier.  I  am  certain  there's  no  landlord 
in  Lambesc  of  that  name,  for  I  amused  myself  by  learning 
the  names  of  all  the  persons  in  the  place.  One  has  to 
do  something." 


MARIUS   SEEKS   A  HOUSE    AND   A   MAX.         143 

"Come,  let's  understand  each  other,"  resumed  Marius, 
turning  pale.  "  I  mean  a  M.  Authier  who  has  just  come 
into  a  large  fortune;  he  is  at  the  present  time  at  Cherbourg 
and  is  about  to  leave  for  New  York,  where  the  relative, 
whose  sole  heir  he  is,  died." 

The  count  burst  out  laughing. 

"What  yarn's  that  you're  telling  me?"  he  exclaimed. 
"  If  such  a  thing  were  to  happen  at  Lambesc,  if  one  of 
my  neighbours  were  to  inherit  the  fortune  of  a  rich  uncle 
in  America,  do  you  think  I  should  know  nothing  about 
it,  and  that  I  should  not  amuse  myself  during  a  whole 
week  with  the  gossip  such  a  romance  would  produce  in 
my  little  town  ?  I  assure  you  again  that  there  has  nevei 
been  an  Authier  at  Lambesc,  and  that  nobody  there  has 
ever  inherited  the  mythical  fortune  you  talk  of." 

Marius  felt  quite  crushed.  The  count's  words  carried 
conviction  with  them,  and  Douglas  alone  could  be  the 
liar  in  all  this.  The  young  man  did  not  dare  express  all 
he  was  thinking, 

"What  interest  have  you  in  this  M.  Authier?"  asked 
M.  de  Girousse  whose  curiosity  was  excited. 

"None  at  all,"  replied  Marius  stammering;  "one  of 
my  friends  told  me  about  him,  and  I  must  have  mis- 
taken the  name  of  the  town  he  mentioned." 

He  still  hesitated  to  accuse  Douglas,  and  there  was  a 
buzzing  sensation  in  his  head  which  prevented  his  judging 
the  matter  clearly.  It  was  in  an  absent-minded  way  that 
he  clasped  the  hand  M.  dc  Girousse  held  out  to  him, 
with  the  words : 

"  Well,  good-bye.  Come  to  me  at  the  opening  of  the 
shooting  season.  It'll  amuse  me." 

When  the  count  had  gone,  Marius  remained  in  a 
painful  state  of  perplexity.  lie  must  certainly  have  mis- 
understood. Yet,  M.  de  Girousse's  statements  were  clear 
and  decisive:  M.  Authier  was  not  known  at  Lambesc, 
and,  therefore,  Douglas  had  lied  for  some  reason  or 
other. 

The  young  man  did  not  dare  fathom  the  consequences 
of  this  falsehood  :  he  divined  the  existence  of  several 
pitfalls  beneath  his  feet,  and  could  account  for  the  un- 


144  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

easiness  he  had  experienced  when  with  the  notary.  Hav- 
ing at  present  nothing  more  than  suspicions,  he  promised 
himself  that  he  would  discover  the  whole  truth,  before 
engaging  further  in  the  matter  and  giving  his  signature. 
He  understood  how  serious  the  least  accusation  would  be, 
and  he  decided  to  act  with  extreme  prudence,  without 
haste  and  without  showing  his  mistrust. 

The  morrow  was  a  Sunday,  and  Marius,  having  a  free 
day  before  him,  went  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  to 
the  Rue  de  Rome  where  the  property  Authier  was  sup- 
posed to  have  purchased  was  situated.  It  was  a  large, 
handsome  house  let  out  in  flats  to  different  persons. 
Armed  with  his  power  of  attorney,  Marius  skilfully  ques- 
tioned each  of  these  tenants,  and  was  soon  convinced 
that  not  one  of  them  knew  M.  Authier,  nor  had  even 
ever  seen  him,  and  that  all  of  them  had  up  till  then  dealt 
directly  with  Douglas,  the  notary. 

The  young  man's  suspicions  were  being  confirmed.  He 
thought  he  would  put  them  to  a  final  test  and  went  to 
see  the  former  owner  of  the  building  whose  address  one 
of  the  tenants  gave  him.  His  name  was  Landrol  and  he 
lived  in  an  adjoining  street. 

"Sir,"  said  Marius,  "I  am  instructed  by  M.  Authier  to 
administer  the  property  you  sold  him  and  I  wish  you  to 
give  me  some  information  concerning  the  leases  you  granted 
and  the  rent  you  charged." 

M.  Landrol  obligingly  placed  himself  at  his  disposal 
and  answered  all  his  inquiries.  Marius  was  very  circum- 
spect, and  when  he  had  spoken  of  one  thing  and  another, 
he  cleverly  broached  the  real  object  of  his  visit. 

"Very  many  thanks,"  he  said,  "and  I  regret  to  have 
taken  up  so  much  of  your  time.  My  excuse  is  that  I 
have  not  been  able  to  see  M.  Authier,  who  is  at  present 
away.  It  occurred  to  me  that  as  you  have  had  dealings 
with  him,  you  could  tell  me  something  about  him  and 
give  me  some  idea  as  to  what  his  intentions  were." 

"  But  I  never  treated  directly  with  M.  Authier,"  Landrol 
replied  simply.  "I  have  never  even  seen  the  gentleman. 
The  affair  was  carried  through  by  M.  Douglas  who  furnished 
me  with  all  the  necessary  signatures." 


MARIUS   SEEKS   A   HOUSE  AND   A   MAN.         145 

"Ah!  I  thought  M.  Authier  had  inspected  the  build- 
ing, which  is  the  usual  custom." 

"  Not  at  all.  Don't  you  know  that  he  has  been  in 
America  for  the  last  six  months?  M.  Douglas  inspected 
the  house  himself  and  bought  it  for  his  client,  whose 
instructions  he  had  received." 

Marius  bit  his  lip.  He  had  almost  allowed  his  terrible 
secret  to  escape  him.  The  day  before,  the  notary  had 
told  him  that  Authier  had  come  from  Lambesc  to  seek 
and  purchase  a  house.  The  falsehood  was  now  an  absolute 
certainty.  Authier  could  not  be  at  the  same  time  away 
in  America — where  he  had  been  for  the  past  six  months — 
and  also  awaiting  money  at  Cherbourg.  No  doubt  the 
individual  was  no  more  known  at  Cherbourg  or  New  York 
then  he  was  at  Lambesc.  He  was  a  pure  fiction,  an 
imaginary  puppet  whom  Douglas  had  conjured  up  for 
some  criminal  design  of  his  own.  And  Marius  suddenly 
thought  that  the  power  of  attorney  filled  up  with  his  name 
was  in  reality  a  forgery  which  rendered  the  forger  liable 
to  a  sentence  of  penal  servitude.  He  blushed  as  though 
he  were  himself  the  culprit,  and  muttered  some  further 
thanks  to  Landrol  who  was  eyeing  him  curiously,  surprised 
to  find  him  so  badly  informed  as  to  the  affairs  of  the 
person  he  was  representing. 

When  Marius  found  himself  alone  in  the  street,  lie  was 
obliged  to  submit  to  the  evidence  of  his  senses :  only 
Douglas  could  have  forged  the  document  he  had  in  his 
pocket.  Yet  the  young  man  could  not  exactly  understand 
the  reason  of  the  crime.  The  purchase-money  of  the 
building  had  been  paid,  so  the  only  explanation  he  could 
hit  upon  was  that  the  notary  had  acquired  the  property 
for  himself  under  an  assumed  name  in  order  to  disguise 
the  amount  of  his  fortune.  But  even  then,  the  crime  was 
still  there :  Douglas,  the  pious  and  upright  man,  was  a 
forger. 

Marius  feared  for  a  time  that  Mouttet,  the  retired  Toulon 
merchant,  was  also  a  dummy.  He  hastened  to  call  on 
one  of  his  friends,  who  had  resided  a  long  time  at  Toulon, 
and  breathed  more  freely  when,  on  questioning  him,  he 
learnt  that  Mouttet  rcallv  existed  and  was  one  of  Douglas' 


146  THE    MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

clients.  After  this,  still  prompted  by  his  suspicions,  he 
decided  to  see  the  property  upon  which  Mouttet  held  a 
mortgage.  He  had  spent  his  morning  in  uselessly  seeking 
a  man,  and  he  employed  his  afternoon  in  hunting  for 
a  house. 

Brought  up  in  the  Saint  Just  district,  in  his  mother's 
country-house,  Marius  knew  all  the  residences  of  the 
neighbourhood.  The  property  upon  which  Douglas  pro- 
fessed to  hold  a  mortgage  in  Mouttet's  name  belonged  to  a 
M.  Giraud,  in  whose  house  the  young  man  had  often 
played  when  a  child.  He  went  at  once  to  Giraud's  and 
paid  a  friendly  call,  as  though  he  had  been  strolling  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and  wished  merely  to  shake  hands 
with  his  old  friend. 

It  was  about  mid-September.  At  the  horizon  the  sea 
was  slumbering,  heavy  and  motionless,  looking  like  an 
immense  carpet  of  blue  velvet.  The  country-side  extended 
yellow  with  sunshine,  hot  and  sweltering.  A  gentle  breeze 
rose  at  times  from  the  shore  and  went  lightly  through 
the  branches  of  the  quivering  pine-trees.  When  Marius 
passed  before  the  country-house  where  his  mother  had  nursed 
him,  a  poignant  emotion  brought  big  tears  to  his  eyes. 
Amidst  the  silence  of  this  scorched  and  mournful  desert, 
he  fancied  he  could  hear  the  beloved  voice  of  the  saintly 
woman  whose  memory  sustained  him  in  his  task  of 
deliverance  which  was  weighing  him  down. 

Giraud  received  him  like  the  prodigal  son. 

"One  never  sees  you  now,"  he  said.  "Come  here 
sometimes  and  try  and  forget  all  your  troubles.  You  will 
find  none  but  devoted  friends  here,  who  will  help  you  to 
pass  a  few  more  pleasant  hours." 

Marius  was  touched  at  this  reception.  He  had  often 
despaired  of  humanity  since  he  had  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  the  wickedness  of  life.  During  an  hour  he  quite 
forgot  the  reason  of  his  visit.  It  was  Giraud  himself  who 
gave  an  opening  for  the  delicate  inquiry  the  young  man 
wished  to  institute. 

"You  see,"  said  the  master  of  the  house,  "we  live 
happily  here.  We're  certainly  not  over  rich,  but  the  few 
acres  of  land  we  possess  suffice  for  our  needs." 


MARIUS    SEEKS   A   HOUSE  AND   A   MAN.        147 

"  I  thought  you  were  in  straitened  circumstances,"  replied 
Marius.  "The  harvests  have  not  been  good." 

Giraud  looked  at  the  young  man  with  surprise. 

"Straitened  circumstances,"  he  said,  "not  a  bit  of  it. 
Why  do  you  say  that?" 

Marius  felt  himself  changing  colour. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  stammered,  "I  don't  wish  to  appear 
indiscreet.  I  was  told  that  after  the  last  harvest,  you  had 
been  obliged  to  mortgage  your  property." 

On  hearing  this,  Giraud  laughed  aloud. 

"  Whoever  told  you  that  told  you  wrong,"  he  resumed. 
"  Thank  heavens,  I've  never  mortgaged  a  single  inch  of 
land." 

"Yet,"  said  Marius  further,  wishing  to  be  quite  sure, 
"I  was  told  the  notary's  name.  It's  M.  Douglas  who  is 
stated  to  have  taken  the  mortgage." 

Giraud   continued  laughing  with  his  broad  frank  laugh. 

"M.  Douglas  is  a  worthy  man,"  he  replied,  "but  what- 
ever property  he's  got  a  mortgage  on,  it's  certainly  not 
mine." 

The  day  before,  Marius  had  seen  the  document  in  which 
Giraud's  property  was  distinctly  named  and  it,  more- 
over, bore  the  owner's  signature.  The  notary  had, 
therefore,  committed  a  second  forgery,  and  this  one  could 
not  be  so  easily  explained  as  the  first.  He  had  evidently 
kept  the  money  which  Mouttet  had  intended  to  be  invested 
for  himself. 

Marius  withdrew,  desirous  of  thinking  everything  over 
before  acting.  Authier  did  not  exist,  and  the  property  on 
which  Mouttet  was  supposed  to  have  a  mortgage  was  also 
a  fiction,  since  Giraud  declared  it  was  not  his.  All  this 
was  a  mystery  which  the  young  man  dreaded  to  inves- 
tigate. 

On  the  Monday  morning  after  a  feverish  night,  he 
decided  to  call  on  the  notarv. 


148  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

CHAPTER  VII. 
THE   COWL  DOES  NOT    MAKE   THE    FRIAR. 

ON  arriving  at  Douglas',  Marius  was  surprised  at  the 
religious  calm  reigning  in  the  large  cold  rooms  which  he 
knew  to  be  the  abode  of  crime.  He  could  not  accustom 
himself  to  such  hypocrisy,  and  would  have  liked  the  very 
walls  to  have  proclaimed  aloud  the  notary's  infamy.  The 
quiet  activity  of  the  clerks,  the  respectable  appearance  of 
the  house  exasperated  him  and  filled  his  mind  with  pain- 
ful doubts.  Pale  and  agitated,  he  had  seated  himself  in 
the  ante-room,  when  Douglas  caught  sight  of  him  from 
his  office,  the  door  of  which  was  open. 

"Come  in,  come  in,"  he  cried;  "you  won't  be  in  my 
way,  and  I'll  attend  to  you  in  a  minute." 

Marius  walked  in,  and  found  five  or  six  priests  there, 
among  them  Abbe  Donadei.  This  abbe,  ever  graceful 
and  smiling,  was  cajoling  the  notary  both  by  word  and 
look.  He  had  come  to  ask  for  alms. 

"You  are  one  of  our  friends,"  he  was  saying,  "and 
we  come  to  you  every  time  the  poor-boxes  of  our  parishes 
are  empty." 

"You  do  well,  sir,"  replied  Douglas,  rising,  and  taking 
some  gold  from  a  drawer.  "  How  much  do  you  want  ?  " 
he  asked  the  priest. 

"Well,"  resumed  Donadei,  in  a  soft  tone  of  voice,  "I 
think  that  five  hundred  francs  will  suffice.  We  are  much 
in  need  of  the  assistance  of  pious  and  honourable  per- 
sons  '' 

"Here  are  five  hundred  francs,"  said  Douglas,  interrupt- 
ing him.  And  he  added  in  a  slightly  trembling  voice: 
"Pray  for  me,  my  father." 

Then  all  the  priests  rose  and  surrounded  the  notary, 
thanking  him  and  calling  upon  heaven  to  bless  him. 
Douglas  listened  to  them,  erect  and  very  pale,  and  Marius 
fancied  he  could  see  a  slight  nervous  trembling  of  his 
lips  and  eyelids.  Donadei,  with  easy  elegance,  was  inex- 
haustible in  praise  and  flattering  professions. 


THE   COWL   DOES   NOT   MAKE  THE  FRIAR.       149 

"The  Almighty  will  repay  you  what  you  give  us,"  he 
said.  "  He  is  already  doing  so  by  making  your  business 
prosper,  and  by  bestowing  on  you  the  peace  of  mind 
that  is  only  awarded  to  the  righteous.  Ah!  sir,  you  are 
a  grand  example  in  this  city  which  is  being  corrupted  by 
the  materialism  of  the  century.  I  would  that  the  whole 
of  our  commercial  population  imitated  your  simple  life 
and  possessed  your  piety  and  kindliness  of  heart.  One 
would  not  then  see  the  horrible  spectacle  which  Marseilles 
is  presenting  to  us 

Douglas  seemed  uneasy,  and  wearied  by  the  priest's 
praise.  He  interrupted  him  a  second  time,  and  said  as 
he  showed  him  to  the  door: 

"  No,  no,  I  am  no  saint.  Every  one  is  in  need  of 
divine  mercy.  If  you  think  you  owe  me  any  thanks,  be 
so  good  as  to  pray  for  me." 

The  priests  made  him  a  final  bow,  and  at  last  withdrew. 

Marius,  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  had  assisted 
at  this  scene  in  silence.  He  felt  indignant  at  the  comedy 
that  was  being  played  before  his  eyes.  Perhaps  Douglas 
felt  that  he  was  purchasing  heaven's  forgiveness,  and 
paying  well  for  it,  with  the  money  he  had  stolen.  So 
this  godly  man,  this  kind-hearted  soul  who  relieved  those 
in  distress,  this  Christian,  who  devoted  so  much  of  his 
time  to  the  churches,  was  but  a  hypocrite  and  a  scoundrel ! 

And  as  Marius  thought  thus,  whilst  watching  the 
priests  and  notary,  he  fancied  he  was  dreaming  with 
his  eyes  open :  he  had  come  to  overwhelm  a  forger,  and 
lie  found  himself  confronted  by  a  charitable  man  for 
whom  the  very  Church  was  offering  up  prayers. 

When  the  first  moment  of  surprise  was  over,  he  felt  a 
still  more  eager  desire  to  do  his  duty.  As  the  notary 
advanced  towards  him,  smiling  and  with  open  and  extended 
hand,  he  drew  back  slowly,  gazing  at  him  intently.  Then, 
he  said  suddenly : 

"  Shut  the  door !  " 

Douglas,  surprised,  and  as  though  incapable  of  resistance, 
went  and  closed  it. 

"  Bolt  it,"  resumed  Marius,  as  harshly  as  before.  "We 
have  to  talk  together." 


150  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Douglas  shot  the  bolt  and  came  back,  looking  astonished 
and  displeased. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  dear  friend  ?  "  he 
asked. 

And  as  Marius,  influenced  perhaps  by  a  last  feeling 
of  pity,  did  not  answer,  he  continued : 

"  But  after  all,  you're  right.  It's  best  to  be  alone  when 
talking  business.  Well !  are  you  ready  ?  I  have  procured 
the  document  that  was  wanting,  and  now  I  only  require 
your  signature  to  complete  Mouttet's  mortgage  on  Authier's 
house.  You  know  that  we  are  pressed  for  time ;  I  received 
another  letter  this  morning  from  my  client  Authier  who 
begs  me  to  send  him  some  money  as  quickly  as  possible." 

The  notary  rose  from  his  table,  spread  out  some  papers, 
and,  dipping  a  pen  in  the  ink,  offered  it  to  Marius,  saying 
simply  : 

«  Sign." 

Marius  had  not  said  a  word,  but  had  quietly  watched 
each  of  the  notary's  movements.  Instead  of  taking  the 
pen,  he  looked  him  straight  in  the  face  and  said  in  a 
calm  tone  of  voice: 

"  I  went  yesterday  to  see  the  house  in  the  Rue  de 
Rome.  I  saw  the  tenants  and  the  former  landlord,  and 
they  all  tell  me  that  they  do  not  know  M.  Authier." 

Douglas  turned  pale,  and  his  lips  had  again  that  trembling 
motion  Marius  had  already  observed.  He  gathered  the 
papers  together,  laid  the  pen  down,  and  reseated  himself 
as  he  stammered : 

"Ah!     You  surprise  me  very  much." 

"The  day  before  yesterday,"  continued  Marius,  "I 
received  a  visit  from  M.  de  Girousse,  a  rich  landed  pro- 
prietor of  Lambesc,  and  he  assured  me  that  none  of  his 
neighbours  was  named  Authier  and  that  that  person 
certainly  did  not  exist.  To-day,  I  know  that  he  was  not 
mistaken.  What  am  I  to  think  ?  " 

The  notary  did  not  answer.  He  was  gazing  vaguely 
before  him,  changing  colour  and  shaking,  feeling  himself 
lost,  seeking  no  doubt  in  his  despair,  a  means  of  explaining 
matters  satisfactorily. 

"I  then  went  to  the  Saint  Just  district,"  resumed  Marius 


THE  COWL  DOES   NOT   MAKE   THE   FRIAR.       151 

pitilessly.  "  The  property  upon  which  you  told  me  you 
had  taken  a  mortgage  on  your  client  Mouttet's  behalf, 
happens  to  belong  to  one  of  my  mother's  old  friends, 
M.  Giraud,  who  assured  me  that  his  property  was  quite 
free.  I  ask  you  again,  what  am  I  to  think  ?  " 

And,  as  Douglas  still  remained  silent,  the  young  man 
went  on  in  a  louder  tone  of  voice : 

"Well!  since  you  refuse  to  answer,  I  will  tell  you 
myself  what  I  believe  and  what  is  indeed  true.  Your 
M.  Authier  never  existed;  he's  a  puppet,  whom  you  invented 
in  order  to  accomplish  some  nefarious  scheme  more  easily. 
In  addition  to  this,  you  never  took  any  mortgage,  and  you 
put  Mouttet's  money  into  your  own  pocket.  To  arrive  at 
this  fine  result  you  have  committed  several  forgeries,  and 
to-day  you  are  quite  prepared  to  commit  others  in  order 
to  procure  a  further  supply  of  cash  for  your  needs." 

It  was  as  though  Marius  was  speaking  to  an  insensible 
and  motionless  statue.  The  notary's  calm  increased  the 
young  man's  anger. 

"I  have  not  to  judge  your  crimes,"  he  continued,  louder 
still ;  "  but  I  have  to  ask  you  for  an  explanation  of  your 
unworthy  conduct  towards  myself.  What !  you  intended 
lightheartedly  to  mix  me  up  in  your  dirty  business;  you 
would  have  compromised  me,  while  professing  to  be  my 
friend  and  knowing  my  position  as  a  humble  worker.  I 
have  the  right,  have  I  not?  to  tell  you  that  you  are  a 
scoundrel !  " 

The  notary  did  not  wince. 

"And  just  now,"  resumed  Marius,  "there  were  priests 
here  blessing  you.  Ah !  you  played  your  part  admirably. 
I  alone  in  Marseilles  know  what  you  are,  and  were  I  to 
state  in  public  the  enormity  of  your  crime,  I  should  very 
likely  be  stoned,  you  have  so  skilfullv  duped  everyone. 
Who  would  believe  that  the  notary  Douglas,  that  man 
esteemed  by  all,  that  frugal,  religious  individual,  is  shame- 
lessly working  in  the  dark  the  ruin  of  his  numerous  clients ! 
I,  myself,  would  still  doubt,  if  doubt  were  possible,  at  seeing 
you  seated  so  calm  before  me,  in  your  humble  and  pious 
attitude  of  a  monk  at  prayer.  But  say  something,  defend 
yourself,  if  you  can !  " 


152  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

Douglas  had  taken  up  a  paper  knife,  and  was  playing 
with  it,  as  though  indifferent  to  all  Marius  was  saying 
to  him. 

"What  would  you  have  me  tell  you?"  he  replied  at 
last.  "  You  judge  me  as  a  child.  I've  let  you  have  your 
say.  Perhaps  now  you'll  listen  to  me  without  interrupting." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  NOTARY'S  SPECULATIONS. 

WHEN  Marius  heard  Douglas  accuse  him  of  judging 
like  a  child,  he  was  indignant,  and  opened  his  lips  to  tell 
him  that  he  judged  as  an  honest  man  would. 

This  forger  thought  it  childish  that  he  should  be 
reproached  with  his  forgeries,  and  he  assumed  the  attitude 
of  a  misunderstood  individual. 

As  the  young  man  was  on  the  point  of  protesting,  the 
notary  interrupted  him  with  a  movement  of  impatience. 

"If  you're  always  talking,"  he  said,  "you'll  always  be 
in  the  right.  I  let  you  insult  me  to  your  heart's  content, 
so  allow  me  to  defend  myself  without  interruption.  I 
certainly  would  rather  you  had  not  become  acquainted 
with  my  system.  But  as  you  have  discovered  a  part  of 
the  truth,  I  prefer  to  tell  you  all.  I  know  you  are  intel- 
ligent, and  you  will  understand  me  better  than  any  other. 
Moreover,  I  am  worn-out,  I  have  not  been  successful  in 
the  application  of  my  theory,  and  I  know  very  well  that 
I  am  a  lost  man.  That's  why  I  consent  to  unbosom 
myself  entirely  to  you.  You  will  see  that  I  never  wished 
for  anyone's  ruin,  and  that  it  was  with  good  faith  that 
I  offered,  as  a  friend,  to  put  you  in  the  way  of  earning 
a  little  money.  Anyhow,  you  will  judge  me,  and  I  trust 
that  after  hearing  my  explanation,  you  will  simply  look 
upon  me  as  an  unfortunate  speculator.  Please  listen  to 
what  I  have  to  say." 

Marius  almost  fancied  he  was  dreaming.  He  looked  at 
Douglas  as  one  would  look  at  a  madman  talking  reason. 
The  peaceful  tone  of  the  man,  his  want  of  remorse,  his 


THE  NOTARY'S  SPECULATIONS.  153 

self-satisfied  manner,  made  him  resemble  some  honest 
inventor  sadly  explaining,  without  cause  for  shame,  why  his 
invention  has  not  succeeded. 

"  There's  no  need  to  go  into  details,"  he  resumed,  "  and 
let  us  put  aside  the  Authier  and  Mouttet  matters,  which 
are  but  of  slight  importance.  The  thing  to  see  and  judge 
is  the  whole  vast  and  complicated  machine  that  I  had 
succeeded  in  establishing.  You  are  surprised  at  my  com- 
plaisance. Well,  I  tell  you  again  I  am  a  lost  man,  I  can 
speak  without  fear  of  compromising  myself.  In  fact,  I 
experience  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  explaining  my  invention 
to  you." 

He  took  up  the  position,  before  Marius,  of  a  man  who 
has  an  interesting  story  to  tell,  and  was  still  toying  with 
the  paper-knife. 

"First  of  all,"  he  said,  "I  recognise,  with  you,  that  I 
have  betrayed  my  trust  and  that  I  am  a  great  criminal  if 
considered  as  a  notary.  But  I  have  always  looked  upon 
myself  as  a  banker,  a  money-dealer.  In  a  word,  please 
behold  in  me  nothing  more  than  a  speculator.  When  I 
succeeded  my  former  employer  the  practice  was  a  very 
small  one. 

"  My  first  efforts  were  directed  towards  making  that 
practice  the  medium  of  a  vast  business  connection.  I 
was  obliged  to  satisfy  all  requirements,  lend  to  whoso- 
ever needed  money,  borrow  of  those  who  wanted  to 
invest,  sell  to  those  who  wished  to  buy,  'purchase  of 
those  who  desired  to  sell.  I  was  like  the  bird-catchers 
who  make  use  of  decoy-birds  to  call  the  wild  ones;  I 
invented  some  forty  imaginary  persons,  in  whose  names  I 
was  able  to  embark  in  all  kinds  of  transactions.  Authier, 
I  admit,  was  one  of  them.  I  was  thus  enabled  to  purchase 
a  large  number  of  buildings  which  I  paid  for  by  means 
of  loans  contracted  by  the  fictitious  purchasers,  and  by 
granting  mortgages  on  these  buildings.  By  these  means 
I  created  a  capital,  a  considerable  turn-over,  a  much  more 
extended  practice,  which  served  as  a  foundation  to  my 
credit." 

Douglas  was  speaking  in  a  clear  tone  of  voice.  He  continued 
after  a  short  silence : 


154  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  You  must  know  that  when  one  speculates  on  money 
one  is  at  times  brought  face  to  face  with  terrible  exigencies. 
I  should  have  been  forced  to  stop  at  the  very  outset  of 
my  speculations,  if,  my  buildings  being  mortgaged,  I  had 
not  been  able  to  procure,  by  some  means,  the  funds  necessary 
for  the  other  operations  I  was  contemplating.  I  did  what 
seemed  to  me  the  simplest  and  most  convenient  thing  to 
do.  When  the  mortgages  had  reached  the  full  value  of 
the  properties,  I  released  the  latter  by  false  discharges 
and  then  offered  them  as  security  for  fresh  loans." 

"  What  you  are  telling  me  is  infamous !  "  exclaimed  Marius. 

"I  begged  you  not  to  interrupt  me,"  Douglas  retorted 
abruptly.  "  I  will  defend  myself  later  on,  at  present  I  am 
merely  stating  the  facts.  I  soon  had  to  enlarge  my  system. 
My  forty  personages  no  longer  sufficed,  so  I  then  had 
recourse  to  extreme  measures  which  from  their  very  audacity, 
succeeded  perfectly.  I  caused  well-known  landowners  and 
merchants  to  contract  loans,  mortgaged  their  properties  and 
forged  their  signatures ;  afterwards  each  fresh  mortgage  was 
wiped  out  by  the  aid  of  a  false  discharge,  which  shielded 
me  from  all  uneasiness.  You  understand  ?  it's  very  simple." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  murmured  Marius,  who  was 
beginning  to  think  the  notary  was  mad. 

"  Besides,"  Douglas  went  on,  "  I  raised  money  no  matter 
how,  when  it  was  necessary.  I  wished  to  go  straight  to 
my  goal,  and  I  have  ever  marched  steadily  on  without 
troubling  myself  about  obstacles,  and  accepting  freely  the 
consequences  of  my  theory.  For  instance,  I  sometimes 
created  both  the  borrower  and  the  building  in  the  same 
transaction ;  I  have  taken  mortgages  on  a  property  which 
did  not  exist  or  which  did  not  belong  to  the  pretended 
borrower.  At  other  times,  when  I  have  been  in  urgent 
need  of  money  to  meet  some  unforeseen  exigency,  I  have 
drawn  bills  payable  to  order  and  signed  by  the  leading 
merchants  of  Marseilles,  and  which  I  have  put  into  circu- 
lation at  a  loss  after  accepting  them  in  my  own  name. 
You  see  that  I  am  hiding  nothing  from  you  and  that  I 
am  accusing  myself.  I  am  laying  myself  bare  before  you, 
because  I  wish  to  justify  myself,  and  also  because,  in  future, 
I  must  give  over  applying  my  system." 


THE  NOTARY'S  SPECULATIONS.  155 

Marius  was  utterly  terrified.  He  entered  tremblingly 
the  recesses  of  this  man's  mind.  He  felt  that  he  was  in 
the  presence  of  a  moral  phenomenon,  and  he  submitted 
to  this  strange  confession  like  one  submits  to  a  nightmare. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  in  the  thick  of  the  roar 
and  smoke  of  some  machine,  surrounded  by  the  revolving 
gear. 

"So,"  Douglas  resumed,  "you  quite  understand  what 
my  system  was.  In  principle,  1  wished  to  be  a  banker. 
to  turn  to  account  the  funds  that  passed  through  my 
hands.  I  acquired  on  my  own  account  properties  which 
I  fancied  I  could  resell  at  a  profit.  My  system  of  ficti- 
tious names  answered  all  requirements :  by  the  aid  of 
these  names  I  was  able  to  deal  with  all  who  applied  to 
me  ;  I  have  been,  according  to  the  opportunity,  lender, 
borrower,  purchaser,  and  seller.  Whenever  the  funds 
raised  by  my  personal  credit  or  the  credit  I  had  pro- 
cured for  the  fictitious  individuals  did  not  suffice  for  my 
needs,  I  obtained  others  by  negotiating  supposed  loans 
on  behalf  of  no  matter  who,  relative,  friend,  or  client, 
being  careful  later  on  to  release  that  person's  property, 
the  same  as  I  had  mortgaged  it,  unbeknown  to  himself. 

O      O  ' 

In  a  word,  my  office  became  a  banking  establishment." 

"A  thieving  establishment,"  exclaimed  Marius,  "a  forger's 
den!  " 

Douglas  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  ought  by  now  to  understand  me,"  he  said,  "and 
to  see  that  I  never  sought  to  rob  a  single  one  of  my 
clients.  I  have  a  hope  that  you  will  do  me  justice  by 
and  by.  I  have  now  to  tell  you  about  my  finest  inven- 
tion. To  administer  the  properties  acquired  and  turn  the 
borrowed  monies  to  good  account,  I  conceived  the  idea 
of  establisting  agents  acting  under  power  of  attorney, 
who  would  represent  in  all  matters  my  fortv  imaginary 
personages;  and  to  fill  these  posts  I  selected  honourable 
young  men,  who  became  my  unconscious  accomplices.  I 
had  faith  in  my  system ;  and  I  should  most  certainly  have 
enriched  those  who  assisted  me  if  unfortunate  circum- 
stances had  not  marred  my  success.  When  I  proposed 
to  you  to  represent  Authicr,  I  desired  solely,  as  I  have 


156  THE    MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

already  told  you,  to  come  to  your  assistance  and  give 
you  a  share  in  the  profits  of  a  speculation  which  I  con- 
sidered an  excellent  one." 

These  last  words  exasperated  Marius.  He  could  bear 
it  no  longer,  and  felt  he  would  go  mad  if  he  continued 
to  follow  Douglas'  strange  talk. 

"  I  have  listened  to  you  patiently,"  he  said,  shaking 
with  indignation.  "The  rascalities  you  have  been  telling 
me  of,  with  such  cool  impudence,  prove  to  my  mind  that 
you  are  either  a  fool  or  a  rogue." 

"  Not  at  all !  "  interrupted  the  notary,  striking  the  table 
with  his  fist.  "  You  have  certainly  not  understood  me. 
I  have  told  you  four  or  five  times,  I'm  a  banker.  Listen 
to  me,  for  goodness  sake." 

Douglas  rose  and  placed  himself  before  Marius.  There 
was  nothing  in  his  attitude  to  indicate  either  fear  or  shame. 

"You  have  called  me  a  rogue  and  a  thief,"  said  he 
softly,  "  and  I  let  you  insult  me,  for  you  were  accusing 
me  in  the  name  of  society,  speaking  as  the  crown  attor- 
ney would  speak  when  judging  my  conduct  from  the  legal 
stand-point.  You  must  look  at  it  from  another  point  of 
view,  if  you  would  understand  me.  Let  us  reason  a  bit. 
A  thief  is  he  who  steals  another's  property  and  makes 
off  when  his  pockets  are  full,  is  he  not  ?  I  have  never 
for  a  moment  thought  of  stealing.  I  have  been  applying 
my  system  during  six  years,  and  I  am  poorer  now  than 
when  I  first  began;  my  operations  have  not  succeeded,  I 
have  even  lost  some  thousands  of  francs  which  were  my 
own.  You  know  what  my  life  has  been  :  I  have  lived 
on  bread  and  water ;  I  have  led  the  existence  of  an 
austere  and  indefatigable  worker.  The  only  luxury  I  have 
allowed  myself  has  been  to  give  a  little  in  chanty.  A 
strange  thief,  indeed,  who  has  lived  in  his  office  as  in  a 
cloister  and  who  has  handled  enormous  sums  of  money 
without  even  being  tempted  to  steal  a  copper !  Admit 
that  if  I  were  really  a  thief,  I  should  long  ago  have  got 
together  what  funds  I  could  and  have  bolted." 

Marius  felt  surprised  and  embarrassed.  He  had  not 
looked  at  the  matter  in  that  light.  The  man  was  evidently 
right:  he  could  not  be  accused  of  robbery. 


THE  NOTARY'S  SPECULATIONS.  157 

"What  shocks  and  incenses  you,"  resumed  Douglas, 
"  is  my  system  itself.  It  has  failed,  and  I  shall  be  considered 
a  great  criminal;  if  it  had  succeeded,  I  should  have 
realized  a  large  fortune  without  doing  the  slightest  injury 
to  anyone.  I  should  have  been  immensely  rich  and  the 
world  would  have  esteemed  me.  Yes,  crime  has  been  my 
base  of  operation,  I  have  speculated  on  forgery,  I  have 
followed  a  new  and  bold  line.  But  to  my  mind  success 
was  certain.  I  had  faith  in  my  activity,  it  never  occurred 
to  me  that  I  might  drag  another  down  in  my  fall.  That 
is  wherein  I  was  blind.  You  see  my  course  of  proceeding: 
I  took  mortgages  on  property  which  did  not  exist  or  which 
had  already  been  mortgaged,  but  I  paid  the  interest  on 
the  money  invested;  I  put  forged  bills  into  circulation, 
but  I  took  them  up  at  maturity ;  my  imaginary  personages 
were,  so  to  say,  nothing  more  than  borrowed  names  to  cover 
myself,  and  I  made  use  of  them  simply  to  increase  my 
speculations.  Understand  me  well :  I  wished  above  all  to 
procure  funds  and  turn  them  to  account ;  what  matter  the 
fictitious  securities  I  emitted,  the  forged  documents,  the 
different  means  I  employed  to  extend  my  credit  and  the 
sphere  of  my  business.  In  speculation,  the  only  reality  is 
the  profit  one  is  able  to  draw,  more  or  less  skilfully, 
from  a  given  capital.  Take  the  Stock  Exchange,  for 
instance,  there  one  trades  on  mere  suppositions.  Admit 
for  a  moment  that  by  buying  and  selling  properties,  by 
means  of  other  people's  money,  I  had  succeeded  in  doubling 
the  capital  I  had  illegally  procured:  I  should  have  refunded 
that  capital  in  full,  have  robbed  nobodv,  destroyed  the 
forged  documents,  and  have  retired  with  a  fortune  won 
by  my  labour  and  intelligence.  That's  my  system  in  its 
entirety.  Having  no  fortune  of  my  own,  I  was  obliged 
to  borrow  of  my  clients  the  principal  necessary  for 
carrying  on  my  operations.  It  was  no  theft,  but  a  mere 
loan." 

On  hearing  Douglas'  clear  and  logical  reasoning,  a  kind 
of  terror  crept  over  Marius.  The  notarv  grew  terriblv  in 
his  eyes.  For  a  moment,  he  looked  upon  him  as  some 
misguided  genius  who  had  employed  his  rare  faculties  of 
and  darinir  in  the  cause  of  evil.  IL:d  the  man 


158  THE  MYSTERIES    OF   MARSEILLES. 

had  large  means  of  action  he  might  perhaps  have 
accomplished  great  things.  There  are  some  superior 
qualities  residing  in  all  criminals  of  Douglas'  calibre.  Marius 
was  above  all  surprised  by  the  simple  and  natural  manner 
in  which  the  notary  spoke  of  the  forgeries  he  had  committed. 
His  mind  was  undoubtedly  disordered.  The  man  was  ill, 
the  fever  of  speculation  which  devoured  him  had  brought 
him  little  by  little  to  look  upon  crime  as  an  excellent 
medium,  provided  the  crime  remained  concealed  and 
unpunished.  He  had  said  it  himself:  though  he  had 
forged,  he  still  considered  himself  an  honest  man,  so  long 
as  he  caused  no  one  to  lose  anything.  After  a  pause, 
Douglas  went  on,  shaking  his  head  the  while : 

"  Systems  are  always  splendid,  practice  alone  opens 
your  eyes  to  their  defects.  In  theory,  I  should  have  won 
an  immense  fortune.  I  don't  know  how  it  has  happened, 
but  I  am  now  overwhelmed  with  debt,  and  I  can  see  very 
well  that  all  hope  is  gone.  My  unfortunate  operations  have 
swallowed  up  over  a  million,  and  my  clients  are  ruined." 

The  notary's  voice  had  grown  feebler,  and  emotion 
was  filling  his  eyes  with  tears.  He  walked  feverishly  up 
and  down,  and,  as  he  did  so,  continued : 

"  You've  no  idea  what  a  frightful  life  I 've  been  leading 
these  past  two  years.  Every  one  of  my  operations  failed, 
and  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  terrible  exigencies. 
To  preserve  my  credit,  to  conceal  my  forgeries,  I  have 
been  daily  obliged  to  commit  others.  I  no  longer  dreamed 
of  making  money,  I  only  thought  of  defending  myself  and 
escaping  the  galleys.  I  take  heaven  to  witness  that  had 
I  been  able  to  get  back  the  money  that  was  lost,  I  would 
have  reimbursed  everyone,  and  then  lived  as  a  law-abiding 
citizen.  But  the  enormous  amount  of  interest  I  had  to 
pay  crushed  me;  I  resold  at  a  loss  the  properties  I  had 
acquired;  in  spite  of  my  struggles,  ill-luck  has  clung  to 
me  and  weighed  me  down  to  the  very  depths  of  ruin. 
To-day  my  liabilities  are  considerable,  I  cannot  meet  this 
fortnight's  bills,  and,  for  me,  a  suspension  of  payment 
means  penal  servitude.  If  the  authorities  were  ever  to 
examine  my  papers,  I  should  be  at  once  arrested  and  put 
in  prison." 


THE  NOTARY'S  SPECULATIONS.  159 

Marius  almost  felt  disposed  to  pity  the  wretch.  Douglas 
sat  down  again  and  resumed  dejectedly : 

"After  all,  though,  this  is  the  end.  I've  confessed  to 
you  and  I  know  that  you're  about  to  hand  me  over  to 
justice.  Let  it  be  so,  for  my  position  is  no  longer  bearable. 
You're  right,  I'm  a  scoundrel  and  I  ought  to  be  punished." 

Marius  did  not  stir.  He  was  reflecting,  uncertain  how 
to  act.  One  fear  stayed  him,  he  did  not  wish  to  be  mixed 
up  in  the  matter  in  case  he  should  be  called  as  a  witness, 
and  thus  lose  precious  time  which  belonged  to  his  mis- 
sion. Moreover,  it  was  not  his  business  to  denounce  the 
notary.  There  was  no  escape  now  for  the  man,  he  was 
fatally  on  the  road  to  his  punishment,  and  would  fall  of 
his  own  accord  into  his  judges'  hands. 

"Well!  why  do  you  hesitate?"  asked  Douglas.  "You 
know  all.  I'll  await  here  the  police  officers  you  are 
going  for." 

The  young  man  rose  from  his  chair,  and  tore  up  the 
documents  containing  his  name. 

"You  are  a  wretch,"  he  replied,  "my  judgment  has  not 
changed.  But  there  is  no  need  for  me  to  assist  justice, 
which  will  know  how  to  punish  you  without  my  help. 
Your  chastisement  will  come  of  itself." 

And  he  walked  out  of  the  office. 

Here  is  the  end  of  this  episode  :  On  the  morrow, 
Douglas,  unable  to  meet  his  engagements,  took  to  flight. 
Marseilles  was  panic-stricken  at  the  news.  Several  fortunes 
were  compromised,  and  it  was  impossible  at  first  to  gauge 
the  full  extent  of  the  disaster.  It  was  a  kind  of  public 
misfortune.  With  the  dismay  of  those  concerned  was 
mingled  the  astonishment  of  all  honest  persons:  (hey  could 
not  forgive  the  notary  the  hvpocrisy  with  which  he  had 
deceived  a  whole  city  during  several  years. 

Douglas  was  caught  and  tried  at  Aix,  in  the  midst  of 
a  terrible  feeling  of  irritation.  He  accepted  his  position 
with  rare  coolness.  Without  his  assistance  the  authorities 
would  never  have  succeeded  in  unravelling  such  an  intricate 
affair.  The  court  had  to  pronounce  on  more  than  nine 
hundred  deeds  infected  with  cverv  kind  of  forgery,  varied  in  so 
manv  wavs  that  the  human  mind  could  not  have  conceived 


l6o  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

any  combination  of  which  the  forger  had  not  made  use. 
The  misdeeds  laid  to  his  charge  were  so  numerous,  were 
complicated  with  so  many  details,  and  affected  so  great 
a  number  of  victims,  that  it  would  have  been  impossible 
to  have  seen  clearly  amidst  the  chaos  without  the  assist- 
ance of  him  who,  after  imagining  and  putting  his  crimes  into 
execution,  could  alone  unravel  the  .skein  of  them.  Dou- 
glas set  to  work  with  indefatigable  zeal  and  surprising 
truthfulness  to  clear  up  the  disorder  of  his  affairs,  and  to 
fix  his  own  position,  as  well  as  those  of  his  creditors  and 
debtors. 

He  continued  to  energetically  defend  himself  against 
the  accusation  of  theft.  He  repeated  that  he  was  an 
unfortunate  speculator,  and  if  justice  and  circumstances 
had  permitted  him,  he  would  have  retrieved  his  affairs  as 
well  as  those  of  his  clients.  He  seemed  to  be  accusing 
the  court  of  binding  his  hands,  of  preventing  him  repairing 
the  harm  he  had  done. 

He  was  condemned  to  penal  servitude  for  life  and  to 
be  publicly  exhibited  in  the  pillory  at  Marseilles. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
HOW   AN    UGLY   MAN   MAY   BECOME   HANDSOME. 

IT  was  now  more  than  two  months  since  Marius  and  Fine 
had  returned  to  Marseilles. 

On  leaving  the  notary's  office,  the  young  man  had  to 
own  to  himself  that  up  till  then  he  had  been  wasting  his 
time,  and  that  so  far  he  had  not  obtained  the  first  franc 
of  the  fifteen  thousand  he  required  for  Philippe's  safety. 
After  all,  he  knew  only  how  to  show  his  love  and  devotion ; 
he  felt  he  had  a  soul  too  upright,  a  mind  too  loyal  and 
too  generously  artless  for  him  to  be  able  to  procure  in  a 
few  weeks  the  large  sum  he  was  so  despairingly  seeking. 
He  had  always  acted  like  a  child.  The  deplorable  inci- 
dents with  which  he  had  recently  found  himself  mixed 
up,  the  loves  of  Armande  and  Sauvaire,  Douglas'  hypocrisy 
and  forgeries,  had  shown  him  life  under  a  terrifying  aspect 


HOW  AN  UGLY  MAN  MAY  BECOME  HANDSOME.   I  6 1 

which  discouraged  him.  He  retreated  instead  of  advancing, 
he  feared,  in  making  another  attempt,  to  fail  and  even 
compromise  himself,  by  falling  again  into  the  hands  of 
rogues  who  would  take  advantage  of  him.  In  his  suspicious 
state,  he  saw  nothing  but  snares  around  him.  Such  tender 
hearts,  ignorant  of  evil  and  desirous  of  good,  are  predestined 
to  be  wounded  and  made  to  bleed  at  every  hour  of  the  day. 

Yet  the  month  of  December  was  drawing  nigh,  and  it 
was  necessary  to  make  haste  if  Philippe  was  to  be  saved. 
No  further  mercy  would  be  shown,  and  the  condemned 
man  would  be  undoubtedly  fastened  to  the  infamous  pil- 
lory. At  that  thought,  Marius  shed  tears  of  impotence 
and  weariness.  He  would  lie  could  have  freed  his  brother 
by  some  herculean  task  ;  if  he  had  been  put  to  the  proof, 
he  would  have  undertaken  to  pierce  the  prison  wall  with 
his  nails,  to  have  scraped  and  crumbled  the  stone  away 
beneath  his  fingers.  That  laborious  exploit  would  not 
have  appeared  to  him  a  hard  one  and  he  would  have 
succeeded  in  it  although  he  wore  his  fingers  to  the  bone. 
But  the  thought  of  the  fifteen  thousand  francs  terrified 
him ;  once  it  was  a  question  of  money,  of  taking  humi- 
liating steps  or  of  engaging  in  more  or  less  equivocal 
dealings,  he  went  off  his  head  and  felt  incapable  of  con- 
ducting the  least  enterprise  to  a  successful  conclusion. 
This  explained  the  artless  confidence  which  had  taken 
him  to  Armancle  and  Douglas. 

All  hope,  however,  was  not  yet  dead  within  him.  Thanks 
to  those  same  qualities  which  were  his  weakness,  to  his 
kindly  heart  and  upright  mind,  he  always  returned  to 
thoughts  of  self-reliance  and  hope.  The  lessons  which 
the  ignominies  of  life  had  taught  him,  could  not  prevent 
him  still  believing  in  the  helpful  sympathy  of  others. 

"  I  have  more  than  six  weeks  before  me  yet,"  he  thought. 
"It's  impossible  that  I  shall  not  find  some  true  friend 
by  then.  There's  no  reason  for  despair." 

He  would  certainly  have  fallen  ill  with  the  anguish,  the 
hopes  and  disappointments  of  his  task,  if  he  hail  not  had 
a  comforter  at  hand  who  smiled  at  him  when  most  depres- 
sed. A  strong  friendship  had  grown  up  between  him  and 
the  Cougourdans.  He  went  nearly  every  day  to  see  Fine 


1 62  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

and  spent  long  evenings  in  her  society.  At  the  beginning 
they  talked  together  of  Philippe;  then,  whilst  not  forgetting 
the  poor  prisoner,  they  conversed  about  themselves,  about 
their  childhood  and  future.  These  were  chats  quite  free 
from  all  restraint  which  rested  them  after  the  fatigues 
and  anxieties  of  the  day,  and  gave  them  fresh  courage 
for  the  morrow. 

Every  morning  Marius,  little  by  little,  began  ardently 
to  long  for  the  evening,  in  order  to  find  himself  back  in 
Fine's  little  room.  When  he  had  a  gleam  of  hope  he 
ran  to  tell  it  to  his  friend,  and  when  he  had  met  with 
some  disappointment  he  also  hastened  to  relate  it  to  her 
and  be  consoled.  It  was  only  there,  in  that  clean  and 
tidy  attic  which  smelt  so  sweet  and  looked  so  gay,  that 
he  felt  at  ease  in  the  midst  of  his  tender  sadness. 

One  evening  he  persisted  in  helping  the  young  woman 
who  was  making  up  some  bouquets  for  the  morrow's  sale; 
he  took  a  childish  delight  in  removing  the  thorns  from 
the  roses,  in  gathering  up  the  pinks  into  slender  bunches, 
in  delicately  taking  one  by  one  the  violets  and  margue- 
rites and  handing  them  to  Fine.  From  that  time  he  became  a 
florist  every  evening  between  eight  and  ten.  The  work 
amused  him,  he  said,  and  quieted  his  anxieties.  If  ever 
his  fingers  touched  Fine's  when  handing  her  the  flowers, 
he  felt  a  gentle  warmth  rise  to  his  face ;  the  strange 
uneasiness,  the  penetrating  emotion  he  then  experienced, 
was  no  doubt  the  sole  cause  of  his  sudden  inclination 
for  making  bouquets. 

Marius  was  certainly  a  simpleton.  He  would  have  been 
much  surprised,  even  hurt,  if  anyone  had  told  him  that 
he  was  falling  in  love  with  Fine.  He  would  have  exclaimed 
that  he  knew  he  was  much  too  ugly  to  dare  to  love  the 
young  woman,  and  that,  moreover,  such  a  love,  born  and 
developed  in  the  shadow  of  his  brother's  misfortune,  would 
have  seemed  to  him  a  crime.  But  his  heart  would  soon 
have  protested. 

He  had  never  lived  much  in  the  society  of  a  woman,  and 
had  let  himself  be  caught  by  the  first  affectionate  glance 
bestowed  upon  him.  Fine,  consoling  and  encouraging 
him,  ever  ready  with  a  caressing  smile  and  a  warm  pressure  of 


HOW  AN  UGLY  MAN  MAY  BECOME  HANDSOME.   I  63 

the  hand  seemed  to  him,  at  first,  both  a  sister  and  a  mother 
whom  heaven  had  sent  him  in  his  affliction.  The  truth 
was  that  unbeknown  to  himself  this  sister,  this  mother, 
was  becoming  a  bride,  a  bride  whom  he  already  loved 
with  all  the  tender  and  devoted  ardour  of  his  heart. 
And  this  love  was  bound  to  spring  up  between  two  young 
people  who  wept  and  smiled  in  company.  Chance  had 
brought  them  together  and  their  goodness  was  uniting 
them.  They  were  worthy  of  each  other,  they  possessed 
the  all-powerful  sympathy  of  devotion. 

For  some  time  past  a  sly  smile,  which  Marius  had 
failed  to  notice,  had  been  playing  about  Fine's  lips.  She 
guessed  the  young  man  loved  her  long  before  he  him- 
self had  become  aware  of  his  love.  Women  have  a 
special  gift  of  penetrating  this  sort  of  secret;  they  can 
read  in  their  lovers'  eyes  and  see  into  the  innermost 
recesses  of  their  souls.  The  flower-girl,  however,  was 
careful  to  hide  her  blushes;  she  schooled  herself  to  remain 
Marius'  cordial  friend,  and  not  to  open  his  eyes  by  a 
warmer  grasp  of  the  hand.  To  see  them  each  evening, 
seated  opposite  one  another,  with  a  table  covered  with 
roses  between  them,  one  would  have  taken  them  for 
brother  and  sister. 

On  Sundays  Fine  went  to  Saint  Henri.  She  felt  a 
sort  of  sympathetic  pity,  a  compassionate  friendship  for 
Blanche.  The  poor  young  girl  who  was  soon  to  become 
a  mother,  and  whose  life  was  for  ever  blighted,  became 
every  day  dearer  to  her;  she  saw  her  remorse,  her  tears 
of  regret,  she  assisted  at  her  disconsolate  existence,  and 
sought  by  her  visits  to  assuage  her  misery.  She  brought 
her  bright  smile  to  that  little  house  by  the  sea,  where 
Blanche  was  weeping  as  she  thought  of  Philippe  and  her 
unborn  babe.  It  was  like  a  holy  pilgrimage  for  the  flower- 
girl  and  she  accomplished  it  religiously.  She  started  off 
about  midday,  after  luncheon,  and  remained  till  dusk 
with  Mademoiselle  de  Ca/.alis.  In  the  evening,  as  night 
was  falling,  she  found  Marius  waiting  for  her  on  the 
sea-shore,  and  they  returned  together  to  Marseilles  on 
foot,  arm-in-arm  like  a  young  married  couple. 

Marius    tasted    pure   joy    during    these    walks.     Sunday 


164  THE   MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

evening  became  for  him  the  reward  of  all  his  efforts  of 
the  week.  He  waited  for  Fine  by  the  sea,  forgetful  of 
his  sorrows,  feverishly  watching  for  the  young  woman's 
arrival;  then,  when  she  was  there,  they  smiled  at  each 
other  and  returned  slowly  in  the  soft  shadows  of  the 
gathering  night,  exchanging  words  of  friendship  and  hope. 
Never  did  the  young  man  think  the  road  long  enough. 

One  Sunday,  Marius  arrived  early.  As  a  feeling  of 
delicacy  prevented  him  calling  at  Blanche's  house  and  so 
adding  to  her  grief,  he  sat  down  on  the  cliff  which  rises 
near  the  village,  and  took  patience  in  watching  the  blue 
immensity  spread  out  before  him.  He  remained  there 
nearly  two  hours,  lost  in  a  vague  reverie,  in  thoughts  of 
love  and  happiness  which  softly  lulled  him.  The  immense 
horizon  moved  him  ;  unconsciously,  his  love  for  Fine  rose 
from  his  heart  to  his  lips;  the  sea  and  sky,  the  infinity 
of  the  waters  and  the  air  affected  him,  opened  his  soul; 
he  beheld  but  Fine  in  the  boundless  sea,  he  heard  but 
her  name  in  the  dull  and  regular  murmur  of  the  waves. 

The  flower-girl  arrived  and  seated  herself  on  the  rock 
beside  the  young  man,  who  took  her  hand  without  speaking. 
Before  them  was  spread  the  sea  and  heavens,  both  of  a  soft 
pale  blue.  Twilight  was  falling.  Profound  serenity  was 
alike  enfeebling  the  last  sounds  and  the  last  rays.  Thin 
rosy  gleams  in  the  west  were  casting  their  delicate  reflections 
on  the  rocks  of  the  shore.  There  was  a  breath  of 
tenderness  in  the  air,  a  great  quivering  voice  which  grew 
softer  and  softer.  Deeply  moved,  Marius  kept  his  friend's 
hand  in  his,  as  he  continued  his  dream.  His  eyes  fixed 
on  the  horizon,  on  that  vague  haze  where  heaven  and 
sea  mingle  together,  he  was  smiling  sadly.  And  in  a  low 
voice,  and  quite  unconsciously,  his  lips  gave  utterance 
to  the  thoughts  of  his  heart. 

"No,  no,"  he  murmured,   "I  am  too  ugly." 

From  the  moment  Marius  took  her  hand,  Fine  had 
been  smiling  in  her  sly  and  tender  way.  At  last  her  friend 
was  going  to  make  up  his  mind  to  speak;  she  guessed 
it  from  the  deeper  look  in  his  eyes,  his  tighter  grasp.  When 
she  heard  the  young  man  say  he  was  too  ugly,  she  seemed 
surprised  and  annoyed. 


HOW  AN  UGLY  MAN  MAY  BECOME  HANDSOME.   I  65 

"Too  ugly!  "  she  exclaimed;  "but  you  are  quite  hand- 
some, Marius!  " 

Fine  had  put  so  much  feeling  into  the  cry  which  had 
escaped  her,  that  Marius  looked  round  and  clasped  his 
hands,  as  he  gazed  at  her  anxiously.  She,  feeling  that 
she  had  abruptly  delivered  up  the  secret  of  her  heart, 
lowered  her  face,  which  became  covered  with  blushes. 
She  remained  thus,  speechless  and  embarrassed,  during 
some  seconds.  But  she  was  not  the  girl  to  withdraw  from 
the  complete  avowal  of  her  love;  she  possessed  too  much 
frankness  and  sprightliness  to  indulge  in  the  hypocritical 
comedy  which  most  young  persons  in  love  go  through  on 
similar  occasions.  She  courageously  raised  her  face  and 
looked  straight  at  Marius,  who  was  trembling. 

"  Listen,  my  friend,"  she  said  to  him.  "  I  wish  to  speak 
frankly.  Six  months  ago  I  hardly  thought  of  you  at  all. 
I  considered  you  to  be  ugly,  no  doubt  I  had  never  really 
looked  at  you.  To-day,  I  think  you  quite  handsome. 
I  don't  know  how  it  has  happened,  I  assure  you — 

In  spite  of  her  resolution,  she  hesitated  a  little,  and 
sudden  blushes  again  covered  her  cheeks.  She  stopped 
short,  unable  to  tell  Marius  plainly  that  she  loved  him. 
She  knew  the  young  man's  timidity  and  had  spoken  solelv 
to  encourage  him. 

Marius  remained  in  his  state  of  tender  ecstasy;  he 
required  no  more,  and  would  have  remained  there  on 
the  cliff  all  night,  without  seeking  to  obtain  from  Fine 
a  more  complete  avowal.  She  was  growing  impatient. 

The  storv  of  her  love  was  a  simple  one.  At  first  she 
had  admired  Philippe's  tall  frame  and  energetic  counte- 
nance, with  that  blindness  of  young  girls  which  prompts 
them  to  choose  handsome  lads,  those  who  carrv  all  their 
beauty  on  their  faces  and  none  in  their  souls.  Then 
wounded  to  the  heart  by  the  indifference  of  Blanche's 
lover,  seeing  at  last  clearly  into  his  vain  nature,  she  had 
begun  to  look  more  severelv  upon  his  conduct  and  had 
become  little  by  little  estranged  from  him.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  she  found  herself  frequently  with  Marius,  in  an 
intimacy  which  brought  them  closer  and  closer  together. 

In     this    instance    love    had    been    born    of    kindliness. 


l66  THE   MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

Marius,  ugly  to  the  eyes  became  beautiful  for  the  heart. 
At  first,  Fine  had  seen  in  him  merely  a  disheartened 
friend  who  needed  help;  she  had  undertaken  half  his  task 
in  a  sisterly  way,  prompted  a  little  by  love  for  Philippe  and 
a  great  deal  by  a  natural  desire  to  be  serviceable.  She 
had  therefore  joined  Marius,  and  their  common  thought 
of  deliverance  had  united  them  more  each  day.  It  was 
thus  that  their  affection  grew,  they  loved  each  other 
through  their  self-devotion,  whilst  living  on  the  same 
hope  and  working  for  the  same  object. 

And  it  was  in  the  accomplishment  of  this  generous  task 
that  Marius  became  handsome.  The  comparison  which 
Fine  could  not  help  drawing  between  Philippe  and  Marius, 
made  the  latter  appear  an  exceptional  being,  the  charm- 
ing prince  of  young  girls'  dreams.  Marius'  countenance 
became  forthwith  transfigured  in  her  eyes  ;  it  appeared  to 
her  quite  handsome  with  all  the  beauty  of  his  loyal  and 
tender  nature.  She  would  have  been  immensely  surprised 
had  anyone  told  her  her  lover  was  ugly. 

Marius  could  still  hear  the  young  woman's  cry,  that 
cry  of  the  heart  which  as  good  as  told  him  :  "  You  are 
handsome,  and  I  love  you  !  "  He  dared  not  speak,  fearing 
to  dispel  the  sweet  dream  which  was  so  deliciously  sooth- 
ing his  mind.  Fine,  in  her  embarrassment,  continued  to 
smile. 

"  You  don't  believe  me  ?  "  she  asked,  speaking  merely 
for  the  sake  of  speaking,  and  scarcely  knowing  what  she 
was  saying. 

"Yes,  I  believe  you,"  Marius  replied  in  a  low  deep 
voice,  "  I  need  to  believe  you.  When  you  were  not  there, 
the  murmur  of  the  waves  told  me  a  secret.  I  don't  know 
what  is  the  matter  with  the  sea  and  the  sky  this  evening. 
They  speak  in  so  sweet  a  voice  that  they  have  moved 
my  heart  and  disturbed  my  mind.  At  this  close  of  day, 
amidst  the  sadness  of  the  twilight,  I  have  just  discovered 
within  myself  a  happiness  I  had  never  dreamed  of. 
Would  you  like  to  know  the  secret  the  waves  whispered 
in  my  ear  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  young  woman,  while  her  emotion 
caused  her  hand  to  tremble. 


HOW  AN  UGLY  MAN  MAY  BECOME  HANDSOME.   167 

Marius  leant  towards  her,  and  murmured  in  a  faint  and 
timid  tone  of  voice : 

"The  waves  told  me  that  I  loved  you." 

The  shadows  were  falling  more  grey  and  solemn.  In 
the  heavens,  lights  appeared  amid  a  milky  transparency. 
The  dark  blue  motionless  sea  was  slumbering  as  it  wafted 
its  sluggish  heavy  breath.  Fresh  and  briny  odours  arose, 
borne  by  the  evening  breeze,  and  the  serenity  of  space 
spread  in  the  advancing  night.  The  hour  was  a  fit  one 
for  an  avowal  of  love.  A  divine  tenderness,  a  smiling 
calm  came  from  the  vast  compassionate  sea.  At  the  foot 
of  the  cliff  the  waves  were  slowly  breaking,  lulling  the 
sleeping  coast;  whilst,  from  the  earth,  still  hot  and  fever- 
ish, rose  a  fierce  breath  of  passion.  It  seemed  as  though 
the  vast  sea  was  adding  its  voice  to  Marius's  tender 
words . 

"  Well,"  said  the  flower-girl  gaily,  "  the  waves  are 
chatter-boxes.  But  did  they  tell  you  the  truth?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "  the  waves  spoke  the  truth. 
I  feel  it  now,  my  friend,  I've  been  loving  you  for  months 
past.  Ah !  what  a  lot  of  good  this  avowal  does  me.  For 
a  long  time  past  I  have  felt  there  was  something  wanting  : 
when  I  was  in  your  presence,  I  became  penetrated  by 
some  pleasant  sensation,  I  could  hear  some  indistinct 
voices  within  me,  and  I  could  not  make  out  what  they 
were  whispering.  Now,  the  silence  of  this  cliff  has  sufficed 
for  me  to  hear  them  tell  of  my  love." 

Fine  listened  to  Marius's  words  with  a  smile  on  her 
lips.  The  shadows  were  becoming  more  and  more  bluish 
and  mysterious.  Marius  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then 
asked  in  soft  and  humble  tone  of  voice: 

"You  are  not  angry  at  what  I  am  telling  you?  I  know 
very  well  that  you  cannot  love  me.'' 

"You  know  nothing  at  all,"  replied  Fine,  with  abrupt 
tenderness.  "Good  heavens!  what  a  time  you  are  making 
up  your  mind!  My  answer  has  been  ready  for  more  than 
a  month  past." 

"  And  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Ask  the  waves,"  the  young  woman  answered,  with  a 
laugh. 


168  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

She  held  out  her  hands  to  Marius,  who  kissed  them 
passionately.  It  was  now  quite  dark,  and  the  dull  moan 
of  the  sea  lingered  voluptuously  in  the  gloom.  The  young 
man  bent  over  the  young  woman  and  their  lips  met. 
Then  they  talked  as  lovers  do,  in  the  puerile  way  of  chil- 
dren, going  from  recollections  of  the  past  to  projects  for 
the  future.  Their  voices  were  a  music  which  caressed 
them,  and  they  talked  to  hear  each  other  speak,  to  feel 
one  another's  warm  breath  play  about  their  faces.  They 
were  so  happy  in  the  obscurity,  in  face  of  the  infinite 
which  lay  open  before  them ! 

"Listen,"  said  Fine,  "we  will  get  married  when  your 
brother  is  free.  Philippe  must  be  placed  in  safety  first." 

At  the  mention  of  Philippe's  name,  Marius  shuddered. 
He  had  forgotten  his  brother.  The  sad  reality  rose  before 
him.  For  two  hours  he  had  been  living  in  the  seventh 
heaven,  and  now  he  had  fallen  back  to  the  earth  from 
•the  height  of  his  dream. 

"Philippe,"  he  murmured  despondently,  "yes,  we  must 
think  of  him.  O  heavens!  is  my  happiness  already  dead? 
You  love  my  brother,  do  you  not?  For  mercy's  sake,  tell 
me  the  truth." 

Fine  said  nothing,  but  burst  into  sobs.  The  young  man's 
words  were  breaking  her  heart.  In  his  despair,  he  pressed 
for  an  answer,  and  at  last  the  flower-girl  cried : 

"  I  love  you  because  you  are  good,  because  you  know 
how  to  love.  So  you  see  well  enough  that  I  cannot  love 
Philippe." 

There  was  such  a  burst  of  faith  and  love  in  this  cry 
that  Marius  at  last  understood.  He  placed  his  arms 
around  her  in  a  sudden  transport  of  adoration.  And  then 
he  had  a  slight  feeling  of  remorse. 

"We  are  happy,"  he  observed,  "and  egotistical.  Whilst 
we  are  breathing  here  the  free  air  of  heaven,  our  brother 
is  pining  in  prison.  Ah !  we  know  not  how  to  work  for 
his  deliverance." 

"Yes,  you'll  see!"  Fine  replied.  "You'll  see  what  one 
can  do,  when  one's  in  love  and  loved  in  return." 

They  remained  hand  in  hand,  without  saying  another 
word,  while  the  sea  continued  to  lull  their  love  with  its 


HOSTILITIES   ARE    RENEWED.  169 

monotonous  voice.  The  stars  were  shining  brightly  as 
they  re-entered  Marseilles,  their  hearts  full  of  their  young 
hopes  and  affection. 


CHAPTER  X. 
HOSTILITIES   ARE   RENEWED. 

BLANCHE  passed  her  days  in  tears.  The  autumn  was 
giving  a  pale  hue  to  the  melancholy  horizon,  the  season 
was  becoming  cold  and  dreary.  Chill  blasts  stirred  the 
sea  whose  voice  had  changed  into  a  wail,  whilst  the  trees 
were  casting  their  leaves  upon  the  ground.  Beneath  the 
mournful  nudity  of  the  heavens  lay  the  bareness  of  the 
sea  and  shore. 

This  sadness  of  the  air,  this  last  farewell  of  summer 
spread  over  Blanche's  surroundings  the  despair  which 
already  filled  her  heart.  She  led  a  retired  life  in  the  little 
house  by  the  shore.  It  was  situated  a  short  distance  from 
the  village  of  Saint  Henri,  stood  alone  upon  a  cliff  and 
overlooked  the  sea  which  beat  against  the  rocks  beneath 
the  windows.  Blanche  would  spend  whole  days  together 
watching  and  listening  to  the  waves,  whose  constant  noise 
soothed  her  sufferings.  This  was  her  sole  diversion  ;  she 
followed  with  her  eyes  the  great  sheets  of  foam  which 
broke  and  leapt  into  the  air;  her  aching  being  found  relief 
in  presence  of  the  mild  and  monotonous  immensity. 

Occasionally  of  an  evening  she  would  go  out,  accom- 
panied bv  her  companion.  She  would  descend  to  the 
sea-shore  and  seat  herself  on  a  fragment  of  rock.  The 
cool  night  breeze  calmed  the  fever  that  was  consuming 
her.  She  would  linger  in  the  darkness,  deafened  by  the 
breaking  of  the  waves  upon  the  beach,  and  not  return 
home  until  she  was  shivering  with  the  cold.  The  same 
thought  was  ever  oppressing  her.  At  each  succeeding 
hour  it  was  there,  overwhelming,  inexorable.  In  the 
chilliness  of  the  night  or  the  warmth  of  the  day,  in  pre- 
sence of  the  infinite  or  before  the  void  of  darkness,  Blanche 
thought  of  Philippe  and  her  unborn  babe. 


170  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Fine  was  her  great  consoler.  If  the  flower-girl  had  not 
consented  to  spend  the  Sunday  afternoons  with  her,  the 
poor  young  creature  would  have  died  of  despair.  She  felt 
an  imperious  need  of  confiding  her  grief  to  some  kind 
soul.  Solitude  frightened  her;  for,  when  she  found  herself 
alone  again,  her  remorse  rose  before  her  like  a  spectre 
and  filled  her  with  terror.  Directly  Fine  arrived,  they 
both  went  up  to  a  little  room  where  they  shut  themselves 
in  to  talk  and  weep  undisturbed.  The  window  stood  open, 
and  far  away,  on  the  blue  velvet  of  the  sea,  white  sails 
would  pass  like  messengers  of  hope.  And,  on  each  oc- 
casion, the  same  tears  were  shed,  the  same  words  spoken, 
heart-rending  and  pathetic. 

"Oh!  how  gloomy  life  is,"  said  Blanche.  "I've  been 
thinking  all  day  of  the  hours  I  passed  with  Philippe 
among  the  rocks  of  Jaumegarde  and  the  Infernets.  I  ought 
to  have  killed  myself  in  those  gulfs,  have  fallen  down  some 
precipice.  " 

"  Why  be  always  weeping,  ever  regretting  ?  "  Fine  gently 
replied.  "  You're  no  longer  a  little  girl,  and  have  sacred 
duties  to  fulfil.  For  heaven's  sake,  think  of  the  present, 
and  no  longer  linger  in  an  ever  irreparable  past.  You 
will  end  by  making  yourself  ill,  by  killing  your  child." 

Blanche  shuddered. 

"  Kill  my  child !  "  she  resumed,  amidst  her  sobs.  "  Do 
not  say  that.  The  child  must  live  to  atone  for  my  trans- 
gression and  obtain  my  pardon.  Ah !  Philippe  was  right 
when  he  said  that  I  should  belong  to  him  for  ever.  Though 
I  denied  him,  I  have  vainly  tried  to  tear  the  memory  of 
him  from  my  heart.  My  pride  has  been  crushed,  and  I 
have  been  obliged  to  yield  to  the  love  filled  with  remorse 
which  is  torturing  me.  And,  to-day,  I  love  Philippe 
more  than  ever  I  did  before,  with  all  my  regrets  and  all 
my  despair." 

Fine  said  nothing.  She  would  have  liked  to  have  seen 
Blanche  stronger  and  prepared  for  the  difficult  task  mater- 
nity was  about  to  bring  her.  But  Mademoiselle  de  Cazalis 
was  always  the  poor,  weak  creature  who  could  do  nothing 
but  cry.  The  flower-girl  determined  to  act  herself  when 
the  time  came. 


HOSTILITIES   ARE   RENEWED.  171 

"  If  you  knew,"  continued  Blanche,  "  how  I  suffer  when 
you're  not  here !  I  feel  Philippe  torturing  me  :  he  lives 
again  in  my  child,  and  is  ever  with  me,  reproaching  me 
with  my  perjury.  He  is  always  before  me,  or  about  me. 
I  can  see  him  on  his  pallet,  in  his  cell,  I  hear  him  com- 
plaining and  cursing  me.  I  would  I  had  no  heart,  then 
I  might  live  in  peace." 

"Come,  you  must  be  calm,"  said  Fine. 

With  such  despair  consolation  is  often  powerless.  The 
young  woman  assisted  with  a  certain  terror  at  these  scenes 
of  distress.  She  studied  Blanche's  shattered  love  like  a 
physician  studies  some  strange  and  terrible  malady,  and 
said  to  herself:  "That  is  how  one  suffers,  that  is  what  one 
becomes,  when  one  loves  timidly." 

One  day,  when  in  one  of  her  fits  of  despair,  Blanche 
said  in  a  broken  voice,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
companion  : 

"You  are  going  to  marry  him,  are  you  not?" 

Fine  did  not  at  first  understand  Blanche,  who  added 
hastily : 

"  Hide  nothing  from  me.  I  would  rather  know  all.  You 
are  a  good  girl  and  will  make  him  happy,  and  I  prefer 
to  see  him  married  to  you  than  to  know  he  is  gadding 
about  Marseilles.  When  I  am  dead,  tell  him  that  I  always 
loved  him." 

And  she  burst  into  sobs.  The  flower-girl  gently  took 
her  hands. 

"I  beg  you,"  she  said,  "think  no  more  of  your  lover, 
but  think  of  your  child.  If  possible,  forget  everything  for 
it.  Besides,  be  easy,  I  shall  never  marry  Philippe,  though 
I  may  become  his  sister — 

"His  sister?"  interrupted  Mademoiselle  de  Cazalis. 

"Yes,"  answered  Fine,  smiling  sweetly  as  she  thought 
of  Marius.  "I  love  and  am  beloved." 

And  she  told  her  the  story  of  her  love,  appeasing  her 
fever  by  speaking  to  her  of  Marius.  As  she  listened  to 
the  recital  of  this  peaceful  courtship,  Blanche's  tears  fell 
less  fast.  From  that  day  forth,  she  loved  Fine  far  more; 
she  felt  only  a  faint  sadness  when  thinking  of  Philippe, 
and  determined  to  devote  herself  to  her  child.  True 


172  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

love,  the  devoted  generous  love  of  her  friend  had  entered 
her  heart. 

Sometimes,  Fine  found  Abbe  Chastanier  in  the  little 
house  on  the  cliff.  The  priest  took  Blanche  the  consola- 
tions of  religion;  he  sustained  her  by  talking  to  her  of 
Heaven,  by  withdrawing  her  thoughts  from  the  world  and 
its  passions.  He  would  have  liked  to  have  seen  Made- 
moiselle de  Cazalis  enter  a  convent,  for  he  felt  that  there 
was  no  longer  any  happiness  possible  for  her  amid  the 
pleasures  of  society.  She  would  have  to  remain  everlastingly 
a  widow,  and  she  did  not  possess  the  strength  of  mind 
necessary  to  make  herself  a  peaceful  existence  in  her 
widowhood.  But  the  poor  priest  was  very  ignorant  of 
matters  relating  to  the  heart.  Blanche  much  preferred  to 
weep  with  Fine  whilst  talking  of  Philippe,  than  to  listen 
to  Abbe  Chastanier's  sermons.  Yet  the  old  man  spoke 
to  her  at  times  in  profound  accents,  and  the  girl  looked 
at  him  with  surprise,  seized  with  a  desire  to  penetrate  into 
the  peaceful  world  in  which  he  lived.  She  wished  to  kneel 
down,  to  remain  for  ever  in  obeisance,  absorbed  in  an 
ecstasy  that  would  have  delivered  her  from  all  her  suf- 
ferings. It  was  thus  that  she  became  little  by  little  that 
which  she  was  destined  to  be,  a  servant  of  God,  one  of 
those  holy  women  whom  the  world  has  wounded  and  who 
ascend  to  heaven  before  their  death. 

One  day,  Abbe  Chastanier  remained  till  evening,  and 
left  with  Fine.  He  had  to  tell  the  flower-girl  some  bad 
news  which  he  did  not  wish  to  mention  before  Blanche. 
He  found  Marius  on  the  shore  awaiting  his  sweetheart. 

"My  dear  child,"  he  said,  "there  is  more  trouble  in 
store  for  you.  M.  de  Cazalis  wrote  to  me  yesterday.  He 
is  much  surprised  that  the  sentence  pronounced  against  your 
brother  has  not  yet  been  carried  out,  and  informs  me 
he  is  taking  steps  to  hasten  the  date  of  the  public 
exhibition  in  the  pillory.  How  are  you  getting  on  ?  Do 
you  hope  soon  to  secure  the  prisoner's  release?  " 

"Well,  no,"  replied  Marius  sorrowfully,  "I  am  no 
farther  advanced  than  on  the  first  day.  I  hoped  to  have 
still  at  least  six  weeks  before  me." 

"I    do    not    think,"    the    abbe   resumed,    "that   M.    de 


DOUGLAS   IN   THE  PILLORY   AT   MARSEILLES.       173 

Cazalis  will  be  able  to  induce  the  president  to  break  faith 
with  us.  Besides,  our  interview  has  remained  secret,  and 
that  makes  me  believe  that  the  exhibition  will  not  take 
place  till  the  end  of  December,  as  promised.  But  I  advise 
you  to  make  haste.  One  can  never  say  what  may  happen, 
and  I  thought  it  right  to  let  you  know  what  I  had  been 
told." 

Fine  and  Marius  were  in  dismay.  They  returned  to 
Marseilles  with  the  priest,  silently  and  again  a  prey  to 
their  anguish.  "Their  love  had  in  a  sense  blinded  them 
during  a  week,  and  now  they  once  more  beheld  the  same 
abyss  before  them. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
DOUGLAS   IN   THE    PILLORY   AT    MARSEILLES. 

SOMK  few  mornings  afterwards,  towards  nine  o'clock,  as 
Marius  was  on  his  way  to  his  office,  he  found  the  Rue 
Paradis  full  of  a  noisy  crowd  which  was  going  in  the 
direction  of  the  Cannebiere.  He  stopped  at  the  corner  of 
the  Rue  de  la  Darse,  and,  standing  on  tip-toe,  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  Place  Royale  full  of  people.  It  was  like 
a  sea  of  human  heads.  The  unceasing  flow  of  the  crowd 
about  him  continued  on  its  way  with  a  noisy  hum. 

The  keen  curiosity  evinced  by  the  mob  gradually  took 
hold  of  Marius  also.  Stray  words  which  he  caught  from 
time  to  time  filled  him  with  vague  anxiety;  and  he  also 
wished  to  go  and  see:  he  allowed  himself  to  be  carried 
along  by  the  crowd  which  was  streaming  down  the  street 
like  a  torrent.  He  easily  reached  the  Place  Rovale,  but 
there  the  throng  which  surged  from  the  Rue  Paradis  broke 
itself  against  a  compact  immovable  mass  of  people.  All 
were  standing  on  tip-toe,  and  looking  in  the  direction  of 
the  Cannebiere. 

The  young  man  obtained  a  vague  view  of  some  soldiers 
on  horseback.  He  could  distinguish  nothing  else,  and  did 
not  yet  guess  what  painful  sight  could  thus  attract  the 
entire  population  of  the  citv.  The  crowd  about  him  was 


174  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

shouting.  Voices  gave  utterance  to  sudden  sharp  words 
which  rose  above  the  discordant  hum  of  the  multitude, 
and  reached  him  distinctly. 

"  He  arrived  from  Aix  during  the  night." 

"Yes,  and  he'll  start  to-morrow  for  Toulon." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  what  figure  he  cuts." 

"  They  say  he  burst  into  sobs,  when  he  saw  the  execu- 
tioner bring  the  cords." 

"  No !  no !  he  kept  up  well.  Believe  me  he's  a  plucky 
fellow,  who  doesn't  weep  like  a  woman." 

"Ah!  the  scoundrel!  the  people  should  stone  him." 

"  I  shall  try  and  get  nearer." 

"  Wait  for  me.  They  must  be  hooting  him  there.  I 
want  to  join  in." 

These  words,  interspersed  with  jeers,  and  yelled  out  with 
angry  gesticulations,  sounded  cruelly  in  Marius'  ears.  A 
genuine  terror  seized  him,  and  a  cold  sweat  broke  out 
on  his  forehead.  He  was  frightened  and  incapable  of 
reasoning.  He  asked  himself  in  his  anguish  who  the  man 
could  be  whom  the  mob  was  hurrying  to  insult.  The 
crowd  was  growing  denser  and  more  eager  every  moment ; 
and  he  saw  that  he  would  never  be  able  to  pierce  the 
formidable  mass  before  him.  So  he  decided  to  get  round 
the  Place  Royale.  He  went  slowly  down  the  Rue  Vacon, 
took  the  Rue  Beauveau,  and  eventually  reached  the 
Cannebiere.  There,  a  strange  sight  awaited  him. 

The  whole  extent  of  the  Cannebiere,  from  the  harbour 
to  the  Cours  Belzunce,  was  filled  by  an  immense  mob 
which  was  added  to  every  minute.  Throngs  of  people  were 
streaming  down  every  street.  At  times,  a  breath  of  anger 
rushed  through  the  crowd,  and  then  shouts  arose,  spread 
like  vast  billows,  with  the  deep  murmur  of  the  sea.  All 
the  windows  were  filled  with  spectators;  urchins  had 
climbed  up  the  shop-fronts  along  the  houses.  All  Mar- 
seilles was  there,  and  each  head  was  eagerly  gazing  in 
the  same  direction.  There  were  more  than  sixty  thousand 
persons  on  the  Cannebiere  staring  and  hooting. 

When  Marius  had  succeeded  in  drawing  near,  he  then 
understood  what  kind  of  sight  was  attracting  and  detaining 
the  crowd.  In  the  centre  of  the  Cannebiere,  opposite  the 


DOUGLAS   IN   THE   PILLORY   AT    MARSEILLES.     175 

Place  Royale,  stood  a  scaffold  made  of  rough  planks,  on 
which  was  a  man  tied  to  a  post.  Two  companies  of 
infantry,  a  picket  of  mounted  gendarmerie  and  chasseurs 
were  drawn  round  the  platform  and  protecting  the  culprit 
against  the  increasing  fury  of  the  mob. 

At  first  Marius  only  beheld  the  wretch  fastened  to  the 
pillory  and  towering  above  the  crowd.  A  horrible  anxiety 
made  him  seek  to  see  the  man's  face.  Perhaps  it  was 
Philippe!  Perhaps  M.  de  Cazalis  had  succeeded  in  having 
the  date  of  the  execution  of  the  sentence  advanced !  At 
that  thought  Marius'  sight  became  confused,  tears  filled 
his  eyes,  and  there  was  like  a  thick  cloud  hanging  befoie 
his  gaze  which  prevented  him  distinguishing  anything. 
He  leant  against  a  shop,  feeling  faint,  and  stabbed  to  the 
heart  by  each  shout  of  the  crowd.  In  his  feverish  state, 
he  ended  by  really  believing  that  he  recognised  his  brother 
on  the  scaffold,  that  it  was  indeed  Philippe  who  was  there 
and  whom  the  multitude  was  insulting.  The  shame,  pain, 
and  pity  which  then  took  possession  of  him,  filled  him 
with  atrocious  anguish.  During  several  minutes  he 
remained  like  one  annihilated ;  then  he  recovered  sufficient 
courage  to  raise  his  head  and  look. 

The  wretched  man  was  firmly  tied  to  the  post.  He 
wore  a  vest  and  trousers  of  grey  canvas.  His  head  was 
covered  by  a  cap,  and  he  had  drawn  the  peak  down 
over  his  eyes.  He  obstinately  held  his  head  bent,  thus 
preventing  the  spectators  seeing  his  features.  His  face 
was  turned  towards  the  port,  and  he  never  once  raised 
his  head  to  gaze  at  the  broad  sea  which  spread  out  before 
him,  free  and  happy. 

When  Marius  had  again  looked  at  the  .prisoner,  he  felt 
a  doubt  and  with  it  relief.  The  man  seemed  twice  as 
stout  as  his  brother.  Moreover,  he  knew  Philippe,  and 
was  confident  that  he  would  not  have  bowed  his  head 
thus,  but  would  have  considered  it  a  duty  to  return 
the  crowd  scorn  for  scorn.  Yet  Marius  still  had  a  vague 
fear:  the  hidden  face  disquieted  him,  he  would  have  liked 
to  have  had  a  clear  view  of  the  culprit's  features. 

All  about  the  young  man  the  mob  continued  to  utter 
exclamations,  yells  of  anger  or  irony. 


I  76  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

"Hold  up  your  head,  you  rogue!  show  us  your  face, 
you  scoundrel ! " 

"Oh!  he'll  never  look  up,  he's  frightened." 

"  Well,  he's  harmless  now.  He's  got  his  hands  tied 
and  will  never  again  rob  anybody." 

"You  think  so,  do  you?     He  almost  stole  his  pardon." 

"  Yes,  yes,  some  rich,  pious  people  tried  to  have  him 
spared  the  ignominy  of  the  pillory." 

"A  poor  man  wouldn't  have  met  with  such  sympathy." 

"  But  the  king  didn't  give  way ;  he  said  the  punishment 
must  be  the  same  for  all  scoundrels,  whether  high  or  low." 

"Oh!  the  king's  a  good  fellow." 

"Hi!  Douglas,  rogue,  rascal,  thief,  hypocrite,  you 
won't  play  any  more  of  your  pranks,  my  friend;  you 
won't  go  again  to  church  to  pray  to  have  your  forgeries 
concealed ! " 

Marius  breathed  more  freely.  The  cries  he  heard  told 
him  at  last  who  was  the  sufferer.  Then  he  recognised 
Douglas,  he  caught  a  distinct  view  of  the  ex-notary's  pale 
fat  face.  But,  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  heart,  he 
thought  of  his  brother,  and  remembered  that  Philippe  also 
might  have  to  confront  the  jeers  and  howls  of  the  mob. 

The  multitude  was  still  roaring. 

"  He's  ruined  more  than  fifty  families.  Penal  servitude 
is  too  light  a  punishment  for  him." 

"We  should  take  the  law  into  our  own  hands." 

"  Yes,  that's  it,  werll  capture  him  and  lynch  him,  when 
he  passes  by." 

"  Look  how  comfortable  he  seems  up  there." 

"  He  doesn't  suffer  half  enough,  he  ought  to  be  hung 
up  by  his  feet." 

"  Ah !  there's  the  executioner  about  to  untie  him.  Come 
along." 

It  was  true,  and  Douglas  left  the  scaffold.  He  was 
placed  in  a  little  open  cart,  drawn  by  a  single  horse, 
which  was  to  take  him  back  to  the  prison.  At  this  moment, 
there  was  a  great  commotion  amongst  the  people.  Every- 
body rushed  forward,  to  hoot  and  perhaps  kill  the  wretch. 
But  the  foot  soldiers  surrounded  the  cart  whilst  those  on 
horseback  galloped  about  and  broke  up  the  mob. 


MARIUS  LOSES   HIS   WITS.  177 

Marius  looked  a  last  time  at  the  culprit  with  intense 
pity.  The  man  was,  no  doubt,  very  guilty,  but  the 
calvary  of  shame  he  was  ascending  turned  him  rather  into 
an  object  of  commiseration  than  of  anger.  The  young 
man  had  remained  leaning  against  a  shop.  As  he  was 
watching  the  departure  of  the  cart,  he  heard  two  workmen, 
who  were  passing  by,  say : 

"  We'll  come  back  next  month.  You  know,  they're 
going  to  exhibit  that  fellow  who  carried  off  the  young  lady. 
It'll  be  more  amusing." 

"Ah!  yes,  Philippe  Cayol.  I  knew  him,  he's  a  big 
chap.  We  must  find  out  the  proper  day  so  as  not  to 
miss  it.  There'll  be  a  fine  to-do." 

The  workmen  went  off,  and  Marius  remained  with  a 
pale  face  and  an  aching  heart.  The  men  were  right :  in 
a  month's  time  it  would  be  his  brother's  turn.  And  he 
reflected  that  chance  had  caused  him  to  assist  at  all 
the  horrors  Philippe  would  have  to  go  through.  He 
knew  now  what  sufferings  awaited  him,  he  could  fancy 
him  in  Douglas'  place  and  pictured  to  himself  the  horrible 
scene  that  would  be  enacted.  His  anguish  kept  him  a 
long  time  with  closed  eyes  and  ears  full  of  a  confused 
hum:  lie  was  seeing  Philippe  on  the  scaffold,  and  listening 
to  the  laughing  crowd  insulting  him. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
MARIUS   LOSES   HIS   WITS. 

As  Marius  was  leaning  against  the  shop-front,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ground,  and  deeply  affected  by  the  scene  at 
which  he  had  been  assisting,  he  felt  a  hand  laid  on  his 
shoulder  with  friendly  roughness.  He  looked  up  and  beheld 
Sauvaire,  the  master-stevedore,  before  him. 

"  Well !  my  young  friend,  what  on  earth  are  you  doing 
there?"  Sauvaire  exclaimed,  with  a  hearty  laugh.  "One 
would  think  you  were  going  to  be  tied  to  that  post." 
And  he  pointed  to  the  scaffold. 

Sauvaire  was  gaily  dressed:  he  wore  a  coat  and  trousers 

12 


178  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

of  fine  cloth,  and  his  partly  buttoned  waistcoat  gave  a 
view  of  his  white  shirt.  His  heavy  watch-chain,  with  its 
massive  charms,  was  displayed  complacently.  As  it  was 
scarcely  ten  o'clock,  the  master-stevedore  was  still  in  his 
slippers,  with  his  soft  felt  hat  cocked  on  his  head  and  his 
beautiful  meerschaum  pipe  between  his  teeth.  One  felt 
that  the  whole  pavement  of  the  Cannebiere  belonged  to 
him ;  he  was  quite  at  home  there,  occupying  as  much 
room  as  possible,  and  watching  the  passers-by  in  a  familiar 
and  patronizing  way.  With  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
stretching  out  his  trousers,  his  legs  wide  apart,  he  examined 
Marius  with  a  look  of  superiority  that  was  full  of  condes- 
cension. 

"  You  seem  worried  and  ill,"  he  added.  "Do  as  I  do  : 
keep  well,  eat  and  drink  heartily,  lead  a  merry  life.  Ah ! 
as  for  me,  I  don't  know  what  grief  is.  I'm  strong,  I've 
got  a  good  digestion,  and  I  can  spend  a  hundred  francs 
whenever  I  like.  I  know  one  must  be  well  off  to  do  as  I 
do.  Everybody  isn't  rich." 

He  eyed  Marius  pitifully,  and  found  him  so  puny  and 
pale,  that  he  was  delighted  at  feeling  himself  plump  and 
red  beside  him.  At  that  moment  he  would  willingly  have 
lent  the  young  man  a  thousand  francs. 

Marius  was  not  listening  to  his  prating.  He  had  shaken 
his  hand  in  an  absent-minded  way,  and  had  then  plunged 
again  into  his  gloomy  thoughts.  He  was  thinking  with 
despair  that  he  had  been  vainly  struggling  for  three  months 
without  having  made  the  slightest  headway.  The  post 
erected  before  him  was  awaiting  Philippe ;  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  his  feet  were  rooted  to  the  pavement,  and 
that  he  was  unable  to  run  to  his  brother's  assistance.  At 
that  moment,  he  would  have  sold  himself  to  obtain  a  few 
thousand  francs,  he  would  have  committed  a  mean  action. 
Receiving  no  reply,  Sauvaire  continued  prating.  He  liked 
to  hear  the  sound  of  his  own  voice. 

"  Deuce  take  it !  "  he  said,  "  a  young  man  should  amuse 
himself.  But  poor  you !  you  don't  amuse  yourself  enough, 
you  work  too  hard,  my  young  friend.  Ah!  it  requires  a 
lot  of  money :  pleasures  cost  dear.  As  for  myself,  I  some 
weeks  spend  enormous  sums.  You  can't  amuse  yourself 


MARIUS   LOSES   HIS   WITS.  179 

as  much  as  that,  it'd  be  impossible;  but  yet  you  might 
have  a  bit  of  a  fling.  You've  got  a  trifle  of  money,  haven't 
you?  Listen!  shall  I  take  you  some  evenings  to  places 
that'll  enliven  you  up?" 

The  master-stevedore  thought  himself  very  generous  in 
making  Marius  this  proposal.  He  waited  awhile  for 
the  young  man  to  thank  him.  But  as  he  still  maintained 
his  silence  of  despair,  he  took  his  arm  in  an  authoritative 
way  and  led  him  along  the  pavement. 

"  I'll  take  you  in  hand,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I'll  show  you 
life.  I  intend  you  to  be  almost  as  lively  as  myself  in  a 
week's  time.  I  eat  in  the  best  restaurants ;  I  know  the 
prettiest  women  in  Marseilles,  and,  as  you  see,  I  stroll 
about  all  day.  That's  the  way  to  live !  " 

He  stopped,  and,  folding  his  arms,  planted  himself 
abruptly  before  Marius. 

"  Do  you  know  at  what  time  I  went  to  bed  ? "  he 
resumed.  "At  three  o'clock  this  morning!  And  would 
you  like  to  know  where  I  passed  the  night?  At  the 
Corneille  Club,  where  there  was  a  fine  old  gamble.  Just 
fancy,  there  were  two  delightful  creatures  there,  women 
attired  in  velvet,  with  jewels  and  lace,  things  so  costly 
that  one  is  afraid  to  touch  them  with  the  tips  of  one's 
fingers.  Clairon,  a  little  dark  woman,  won  over  five  thousand 
francs." 

Marius  looked  up  sharply. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said  in  a  strange  voice,  "  can  one  win  five 
thousand  francs  in  a  single  night  ?  " 

Sauvaire  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Good  heavens !  what  a  simpleton  you  are !  I  have  seen 
larger  sums  than  that  won.  Some  people  have  luck.  Last 
year  I  knew  a  young  man  who  won  sixteen  thousand  francs 
in  a  couple  of  nights.  He  came  to  the  club  with  me, 
and  hadn't  a  copper  on  him.  I  lent  him  five  francs,  and 
two  days  after  he  was  in  possession  of  sixteen  thousand. 
We  spent  them  together.  Heavens!  didn't  I  just  amuse 
myself  during  the  month  they  lasted !  " 

A  red  flush  came  to  Marius'  face.  He  felt  a  tremor 
pass  up  him  and  burn  his  chest.  He  had  never  before 
experienced  so  painful  a  sensation. 


l8o  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  Doesn't  one  have  to  be  a  member  of  a  club  to  be 
able  to  play  there?"  he  asked. 

The  master-stevedore  smiled  and  winked  his  eye  in  a 
knowing  manner,  shrugging  his  shoulders  the  while. 

"I  thought,"  resumed  Marius,  "that  strangers  were  not 
allowed  in  a  club,  and  that  only  the  members,  who  had 
paid  a  subscription,  could  play  there." 

"Yes,  yes,  that's  correct,"  replied  Sauvaire  laughing, 
"  only  members  have  the  right  to  play.  But  strangers, 
who  have  not  that  right,  are  generally  more  numerous 
around  the  gaming-table,  and  play  for  higher  stakes  than 
the  members.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

It  was  now  Marius  who  took  hold  of  Sauvaire's  arm, 
and  they  went  a  few  steps  in  silence.  Then  the  young 
man  asked  his  companion  in  a  stifled  voice: 

"Could  you  take  me  to-night  to  the  Corneille  Club?" 

"  Bravo  !  "  exclaimed  the  master-stevedore.  "  We'll  have 
a  laugh.  I  see  you're  beginning  to  understand  life. 
Look  you,  wine,  love  and  cards,  that's  the  ticket  for  me. 
When  I  saw  you  looking  so  pale,  I  said  to  myself: 
'  There's  a  youngster  I  must  take  in  hand  ! '  Try  and  win 
some  money,  be  quick  and  get  a  sweetheart,  and  you'll 
soon  grow  fat,  or  the  devil  take  me !  Certainly,  I'll  conduct 
you  to-night  to  the  Corneille  Club  and  I'll  introduce  you 
to  Clairon." 

Marius  made  a  movement  of  impatience.  He  cared 
nothing  for  Clairon!  A  fixed  idea  was  occupying  his 
brain.  Since  it  was  possible  to  win  sixteen  thousand 
francs  at  play  in  a  couple  of  nights,  he  wished  to  tempt 
fortune  and  obtain  Philippe's  ransom  from  chance.  And 
he  said  to  himself  that  Providence  would  watch  over  him, 
that  he  would  leave  the  club  with  his  hands  full  of  gold. 
Something  had  gone  wrong  in  his  healthy,  upright  mind. 
Beneath  the  repeated  blows  of  disaster  the  good  sense  he 
possessed  had  become  clouded.  Everything  was  weighing 
him  down.  In  bringing  him  the  news  of  M.  de  Cazalis' 
fresh  proceedings,  Abbe  Chastanier  had  dealt  him  the  first 
blow.  Then  Douglas  in  the  pillory,  that  terrible  sight, 
had  completed  his  perturbation,  driving  him  mad  by 
spreading  before  his  eyes  the  spectacle  of  the  infamous 


MARIUS   LOSES   HIS  WITS.  l8l 

punishment  that  awaited  his  brother.  He  was  now  quite 
losing  his  wits.  Reduced  to  powerlessness,  not  knowing 
where  to  turn  in  his  supreme  anguish,  he  looked  upon 
gambling  as  a  providential  means  which  would  either  help 
him  out  of  his  difficulty  or  plunge  him  more  deeply  into 
the  abyss  of  his  despair. 

Besides,  he  was  acting  in  a  state  of  fever,  no  longer 
knowing  what  he  was  doing,  obeying  simply  the  instincts 
of  the  beast.  He  looked  at  Sauvaire,  wondering  whether 
it  was  virtue  or  crime  which  had  placed  this  man  across 
his  path,  at  the  moment  when  the  thought  of  the  steps 
the  deputy  was  taking  and  of  Philippe's  punishment  was 
torturing  him.  At  that  instant,  he  would  have  accepted 
anything,  he  would  have  fought  ill-luck  with  no  matter 
what  weapons. 

"Well!  that's  agreed,"  resumed  Sauvaire,  as  he  took 
leave.  "Where  shall  I  meet  you,  this  evening?" 

"  I'll  be  here,  on  the  Cannebiere,  at  ten  o'clock," 
replied  Marius. 

He  left  the  master-stevedore  and  went  to  his  office. 
He  had  never  before  been  in  such  a  state  of  over-excite- 
ment. He  passed  a  terrible  day,  shaking  with  fever,  his 
brow  heated,  a  vacant  gaze  in  his  eyes,  and  full  of  eager 
desire  as  he  thought  of  the  night  that  was  coming.  He 
was  dreaming  awake,  and  beheld  the  gold  heaping  up 
before  him;  he  fancied  himself  already  rich  and  imagined 
his  brother  was  free.  In  the  evening  he  went  to  see 
Fine,  as  usual,  at  about  eight  o'clock.  The  young  woman 
noticed  how  heated  his  hands  were. 

"  W hatever  is  the  matter  with  you  ? "  she  asked  him 
anxiously. 

He  stammered,  and  hurried  away  with  the  words: 

"  Don't  ask  me  anything.  Philippe  will  be  free  and  we 
shall  all  live  happily." 

He  called  at  his  lodging  to  take  a  hundred  francs  which 
he  had  saved  up  one  by  one,  and  then  went  to  meet 
Sauvaire.  At  ten  o'clock,  they  both  entered  the  Corneillc 
Club. 


1 82  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE   GAMBLING-HOUSES    OF   MARSEILLES. 

BEFORE  relating  the  next  episode  of  this  drama,  before 
showing  Marius  a  prey  to  all  the  anxieties  of  the  gambler, 
it  is  necessary  to  explain  the  causes  which  led  to  the 
increase  of  gambling-houses  in  Marseilles.  The  writer  of 
these  lines  would  like  to  display,  in  all  its  hideous  naked- 
ness, the  festering  sore  which  preyed  upon  one  of  the 
wealthiest  and  liveliest  cities  of  France.  The  reader  will 
pardon  his  short  digression  in  consideration  of  its  useful- 
ness. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  passion  for  gambling  plays 
the  most  havoc  in  the  great  centres  of  commerce.  When 
a  whole  population  is  given  over  to  unbridled  speculation, 
when  all  classes  in  a  city  are  trafficking  from  morn 
to  eve,  it  is  almost  impossible  that  this  throng  of  dealers 
should  not  plunge  into  the  keen  emotions  of  gambling. 
Gaming  then  becomes  an  additional  speculation  to  be 
added  to  the  others ;  people  speculate  on  chance,  and  con- 
tinue during  the  night  the  occupation  of  the  day;  during 
the  day-time  they  have  been  trying  to  increase  their  fortune 
by  selling  no  matter  what,  and,  at  night-time,  they  seek 
to  add  to  the  profit  by  risking  it  at  the  gaming-table.  If 
it  is  true  that  trade  is  often  a  game,  the  traders  may 
believe  that  they  are  not  going  out  of  their  element  when 
they  pass  from  their  counters  to  the  neighbouring  gam- 
bling-houses. 

The  commercial  fever,  too,  is  contagious.  In  the  face 
of  certain  great  fortunes  accumulated  in  a  few  years,  there 
is  not  a  young  man  at  Marseilles  who  does  not  dream  of 
similar  luck.  Everyone  wishes  to  go  into  business,  the 
whole  city  is  an  enormous  bank  in  which  one  lives  merely 
for  the  sake  of  making  money.  Go  down  to  the  port, 
walk  into  all  the  places  where  the  crowd  is  densest:  you 
will  find  everyone  talking  of  money,  and  will  fancy  your- 
self in  some  immense  office  where  all  conversations 
are  about  figures.  The  important  business  is,  when  one 


THE   GAMBLING-HOUSES   OF   MARSEILLES.       183 

has  ten  francs  in  one's  pocket,  to  turn  them  into  twenty, 
thirty,  forty.  Those  with  large  capital  gamble  at  the 
Stock  Exchange,  buying  and  selling.  But  folks  who  only 
possess  a  few  francs,  have  recourse  to  gaming;  not  having 
sufficient  to  engage  in  vast  enterprises,  they  satisfy  their 
craving  by  tempting  chance ;  it  is  a  means  of  gaining 
fortune  or  meeting  ruin  which  is  within  everyone's  grasp, 
a  prompt  and  easy  method,  a  new  style  of  trade,  full  of 
keen  emotions.  The  gambler  is  a  speculator  who  lives  a 
whole  panting  existence  in  a  night,  and  experiences  the 
hope,  anxiety,  and  despair  of  a  stock-jobber.  In  a  city 
like  Marseilles,  where  money  reigns  as  sovereign  king, 
where  the  inhabitants  are  under  the  influence  of  a  terrible 
commercial  fever,  gambling  becomes  a  necessity,  a  sort  of 
bank  open  to  all,  in  which  each  one,  both  rich  and  poor, 
can  risk  his  coppers  or  his  gold. 

Add  to  this  the  fact  that  the  wealthy,  those  who  shovel 
gold  about,  who  gain  enormous  sums  in  a  day,  set  little 
value  on  that  gold  they  pile  up  so  easily.  A  workman 
looks  with  reverence  at  the  five-franc  piece  which  is  paid 
him  in  the  evening;  he  has  toiled  and  moiled  to  earn  the 
coin,  it  represents  to  him  an  exhausting  labour,  long  hours 
of  fatigue ;  and  he  has  to  live  on  it.  But  a  trader,  a 
stock-jobber  who,  whilst  remaining  seated  in  his  office, 
finds  e,t  evening  that  he  has  gained  several  hundreds  of 
francs,  does  not  fear,  when  pocketing  his  profit,  to  let  a 
few  twenty-franc  pieces  fall  to  the  ground.  He  knows 
that  on  the  morrow  he  will  no  doubt  earn  as  many  more  ; 
he  is  still  young,  and  wishes  to  enjoy  life ;  as  he  has 
been  shut  in  during  several  hours,  he  requires,  in  the 
evening,  some  noisy  pleasures  and  strong  emotions.  So 
he  squanders  his  money  in  the  restaurants  and  cafes, 
and  at  the  gaming-table,  spending  it  as  easily  as  he 
earned  it. 

A  commercial  city  is  therefore  forcibly  dissolute  and 
given  to  gambling.  In  this  ebb  and  flow  of  fortunes,  in 
this  scorching  breath  of  trade  which  penetrates  throughout 
every  house,  there  arc  hours  of  madness,  imperious  needs 
for  enjoyment.  At  certain  times,  these  people  are  blinded 
by  the  daz/cle  of  the  gold:  they  plunge  into  debauchery 


1 84  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

the  same  as  they  plunged  into  business.  And  the  fever 
lays  hold  of  the  town  from  one  end  to  the  other,  little 
and  big,  rich  and  poor,  are  agitated  by  the  same  emotion, 
the  same  need  to  lose  or  win  gold,  down  to  ruin  or  up 
to  millions. 

One  can  understand  the  existence  of,  I  was  almost 
saying  the  necessity  for,  gambling-houses  at  Marseilles. 
At  the  time  of  this  story  there  were  more  than  a  hundred 
of  them,  and  the  number  was  increasing  daily.  The 
police  were  vanquished  by  the  passion  of  the  gamblers. 
Whenever  a  gambling-house  was  discovered  and  closed, 
two  others  were  opened  in  its  immediate  neighbourhood. 
To  cut  off  the  evil  at  the  root,  it  was  necessary  to  remove 
the  fever  that  was  agitating  the  whole  population.  But 
to  my  mind  the  evil  was  irremediable :  one  may  kill  man, 
but  not  his  passions. 

The  police,  who  have  a  direct  action  on  gambling-houses, 
close  all  those  they  discover.  But  their  action  is  difficult 
to  apply  in  the  clubs  which,  at  times,  become  changed 
into  veritable  houses  for  gaming.  Gamblers  are  inventive 
when  it  is  a  question  of  satisfying  their  passion;  they 
endeavour  to  have  the  law  on  their  side.  Understand 
well,  however,  what  I  mean  to  say;  I  have  no  idea  of 
attacking  certain  honourable  clubs  at  Marseilles;  I  wish 
merely  to  be  the  historian  of  those  scandalous  clubs,  fre- 
quented by  sharpers  and  sometimes  terribly  stained  by 
the  blood  of  suicide. 

This  is  how  a  club  is  founded.  A  few  persons  ask  for 
an  authorization  to  meet  of  an  evening  in  a  certain  place, 
for  the  purposes  of  conversation  and  refreshment,  and 
even  to  play  at  lawful  games.  Each  member  pays  a 
subscription,  and  it  is  forbidden  to  admit  strangers,  that 
is  to  say  to  keep  a  gaming-table  open  to  the  public. 

And  now,  this  is  what  happens.  After  a  few  months, 
conversation  and  drinking  cease,  and  whole  nights  are 
spent  around  the  green  baize;  the  stakes,  at  first  very 
small,  gradually  increase  in  amount,  so  much  so  that  it  is 
easy  to  ruin  oneself  in  a  few  nights.  The  management 
is  no  longer  so  strict,  anyone  is  free  to  enter,  there  are 
more  strangers  in  the  club  than  members,  even  women 


THE   GAMBLING-HOUSES   OF   MARSEILLES.      185 

are  admitted,  sharpers  soon  put  in  an  appearance  for  the 
purpose  of  fleecing  inexperienced  players,  and  this 
state  of  things  lasts  until  the  police  make  a  raid  and  close 
the  premises.  Two  months  later  the  club  re-opens  some 
distance  off,  the  farce  is  played  over  again  with  the  same 
ending. 

This  is  one  of  the  open  sores  of  Marseilles,  a  festering 
sore  which  spreads  every  day.  The  clubs  have  always  a 
tendency  to  become  gambling-houses,  abysses  which 
swallow  up  the  fortunes  and  honour  of  those  imprudent 
enough  to  venture  therein.  And  once  one  has  tasted  the 
keen  delights  of  play,  all  other  pleasures  seem  to  cloy ;  the 
fever  seizes  hold  of  one's  whole  being  and  the  table  claims 
the  last  coin  in  one's  purse.  Not  a  week  goes  by  without 
some  fresh  disaster  or  complaint  to  the  authorities. 

One  time  it  is  merchants  who  have  been  ruining  them- 
selves at  the  gaming-tables.  They  come  there  and  jeopardize 
the  money  deposited  with  them,  first  dissipating  their  own 
profits,  and  then  breaking  into  the  funds  that  have  been 
entrusted  to  their  commercial  probity;  after  that  they  are 
obliged  to  go  into  bankruptcy,  and  they  drag  down  in 
their  ruin,  those  who  have  had  faith  in  their  honesty. 

Another  time  it  is  small  clerks  with  appetites  for  luxury 
and  fast  living,  and  whose  modest  salaries  are  insufficient 
for  the  gratification  of  their  passions.  Thev  sec  around 
them  wealthy  people  wallowing  in  the  lap  of  luxury, 
surrounded  by  lovely  women,  reclining  in  carriages,  in 
short  tasting  of  all  the  dissolute  joys  of  life;  they  are 
seized  with  jealousy,  and  feel  a  keen  desire  to  lead  a 
similar  existence  of  pleasure  and  festivity.  So  they  seek 
to  obtain  the  necessary  money  at  the  gaming-table ;  they 
first  of  all  risk  their  salaries ;  then,  when  luck  is  against 
them,  they  rob  their  employers,  and  enter  upon  a  criminal 
career. 

Then  again  there  are  young  men,  poor  simple  fellows 
fresh  from  college,  who  become  the  prey  of  skilful  sharpers. 
If  they  win,  they  plunge  into  debauchery;  if  they  lose,  they 
fall  into  debt,  give  bills  to  usurers,  and  cat  their  corn  in 
the  ear. 

The  following  characteristic  story  is  told.     A  clerk,  who 


1 86  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

had  been  given  a  few  thousand  francs  by  his  employer 
to  pay  the  duty  on  some  merchandise,  went  that  evening 
to  a  club  and  lost  the  money  with  which  he  had  been 
entrusted,  at  baccara.  It  was  a  temporary  madness,  the 
clerk  being  an  honest  fellow  who  had  succumbed  to  the 
gambling  fever.  The  employer  threatened  to  make  a 
complaint  to  the  authorities.  On  hearing  this,  the  members 
of  the  club,  met  together  and  decided  to  restore  to  the 
employer,  out  of  their  own  pockets,  the  sum  which  his 
clerk  had  misappropriated.  When  they  had  paid  up,  the 
clerk  signed  a  bill  to  the  order  of  the  cashier  of  the  club, 
and  the  cashier  has  never  insisted  on  the  payment  of  this 
bill  which  the  poor  clerk  was  unable  to  meet. 

Is  not  this  kind  action  on  the  gamblers'  part  an  admis- 
sion? They  understood  that  they  were  all  jointly  and 
severally  guilty  of  the  embezzlement,  and  they  hushed  up 
the  affair  so  that  the  authorities  should  not  come  and 
disturb  them  in  the  gratification  of  their  passion. 

It  was  into  this  world  stricken  with  madness,  into  this 
company  of  excited  gamblers,  that  Sauvaire  introduced 
Marius. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
IN   WHICH   MARIUS   WINS  TEN  THOUSAND   FRANCS. 

THE  Corneille  Club  was  one  of  those  authorized  gambling 
hells  that  were  referred  to  in  the  preceding  chapter.  In 
principle  it  should  only  have  comprised  members  admitted 
by  a  majority  of  voices  and  paying  a  subscription  of 
twenty-five  francs;  but,  in  reality,  everyone  could  go  there 
and  gamble.  At  the  commencement,  to  save  appearances, 
they  were  in  the  habit  of  pasting  a  list  of  the  new- 
comers up  on  the  glass;  or  else  strangers  were  obliged  to 
give  a  card  of  introduction  supplied  by  one  of  the  members. 
Later  on  they  had  omitted  to  ask  for  the  card  and  they 
had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  post  up  the  names.  Anyone 
could  go  there  who  liked. 

Of   course    the    master-stevedore   was   an  upright   man 


MARIUS   WINS   TEN   THOUSAND   FRANCS.        187 

incapable  of  committing  a  base  action;  but  his  life  of 
pleasure  had  caused  him  to  make  strange  friendships. 
He  naively  said  that  he  preferred  the  society  of  rogues 
to  that  of  straightforward  people,  for  while  the  latter 
worried  him  the  former  made  him  laugh.  He  sought  low 
society  by  instinct,  because  he  could  there  unbutton  him- 
self at  his  ease,  and  amuse  himself  as  he  pleased,  that  is 
to  say  by  making  a  frightful  riot.  Besides,  with  his  affected 
air  of  a  simple,  easy  man,  he  concealed  extraordinary 
cunning  and  prudence:  he  never  compromised  himself, 
gambled  little,  and  withdrew  as  soon  as  he  ran  the  least 
danger.  He  was  aware  of  the  shady  reputation  of  the 
majority  of  the  frequenters  of  the  Corneille  Club,  and  he 
went  there  because  he  met  with  ladies  who  were  the 
reverse  of  being  straitlaced,  and  was  able  to  satisfy  his 
inclinations  of  an  upstart. 

Sauvaire  and  Marias,  after  ascending  a  narrow  staircase, 
reached  a  spacious  apartment  on  the  first  floor  where  a 
score  of  marble-topped  tables  were  set  out.  Against  the 
walls  were  divans  covered  with  red  velvet  and  in  the  centre 
rush-seated  chairs:  you  might  have  imagined  yourself  in 
a  cafe.  At  the  end  was  a  large  table  covered  with  green 
cloth  on  which  two  squares  were  marked  out  with  red  braid, 
and  between  these  was  a  well  for  the  cards  that  had  been 
used.  This  was  the  gaming-table.  It  was  surrounded 
by  chairs. 

Marius  cast  a  bewildered  look  over  the  place  on  entering. 
He  was  suffocating,  like  a  man  who  had  just  fallen  into 
the  water.  Anyone,  to  look  at  him,  might  have  thought 
that  he  had  just  come  into  a  cavern  where  wild  beasts 
were  about  to  devour  him.  His  heart  was  beating  rapidly 
anil  his  brow  covered  with  perspiration.  A  sort  of  timidity 
mingled  with  repugnance  kept  him  motionless,  awkward, 
and  gave  him  an  embarrassed  appearance. 

There  was  hardly  anyone  in  the  room.  A  few  men 
were  drinking.  Two  women  were  conversing  excitedly  in 
a  low  tone  in  the  corner.  The  gaming-table  remained 
dark  and  unoccupied  in  the  background,  for  the  gas 
burners  which  descended  in  the  centre  of  the  green  cloth 
had  not  vet  been  lit. 


1 88  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Marius  regained  his  assurance  little  by  little ;  but  the 
fever  continued  raging  in  his  veins. 

"  What  will  you  take  ?  "  inquired  Sauvaire. 

"  Whatever  you  like,"  answered  the  young  man,  in  an 
off-hand  way,  staring  at  the  table  with  curiosity  and  alarm. 

The  master-stevedore  ordered  beer.  He  extended  him- 
self full  length  on  a  divan  and  lit  a  cigar. 

"  Ah  !  There  is  Clairon,  along  with  her  friend  Isnarde," 
he  all  at  once  exclaimed,  perceiving  the  two  girls  talking 
in  a  corner.  "  Look  what  pearls  of  women  they  are ! 
Eh!  what  say  you?  They  are  the  sort  of  little  creatures 
you  require  to  drive  away  your  troubles." 

Marius  looked  at  the  girls.  Clairon  wore  an  old  black 
velvet  gown  stained  and  frayed;  she  was  short,  dark, 
faded;  her  face,  which  was  pale  and  covered  with  yellow 
spots,  wore  an  air  of  weariness  which  was  painful  to  look 
at.  Isnarde,  who  was  tall  and  thin,  appeared  still  older 
and  more  worn  out;  it  seemed  as  if  her  angular  limbs 
would  pierce  through  her  faded  silk  gown  at  the  shoulders. 
Marius  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  Sauvaire's  passionate 
admiration  for  these  creatures.  He  turned  away  his  head 
with  an  expression  of  disgust ;  Fine's  healthy  countenance 
had  just  appeared  to  him,  and  he  felt  ashamed  at  being 
in  such  a  place. 

The  high  key  of  Sauvaire's  voice  had  made  the  two 
girls  turn  their  heads  and  they  began  to  laugh. 

"Oh!  they  are  buxom  lasses,"  murmured  the  master- 
stevedore,  "  there's  no  mourning  in  their  society.  If  you 
like  we'll  take  them  off  with  us  to-night?" 

"Aren't  we  going  to  play?"  inquired  Marius,  sharply, 
interrupting  his  companion. 

"  Good  heavens !  What  a  hurry  you  are  in ! "  answered 
Sauvaire,  who  stretched  himself  out  still  more  to  attract 
the  girls'  attention.  "Of  course  we  are  going  to  play, 
we'll  play  until  to-morrow  morning  if  you  like.  But  dash 
it,  there's  time  enough  for  that.  Just  observe  how  Clairon 
and  Isnarde  are  looking  at  me." 

The  frequenters  of  the  place  gradually  came  in.  A 
waiter  lit  the  gas,  and  several  players  went  and  seated 
themselves  at  the  gaming-table.  The  two  girls  began  to 


MARIUS   WINS   TEN   THOUSAND   FRANCS.       189 

move  about  the  room,  smiling  on  the  men  they  knew ; 
they  ended  by  seating  themselves  near  the  banker  who 
held  the  cards,  hoping,  no  doubt,  to  glean  a  few  twenty-franc 
pieces.  Sauvaire  then  consented  to  approach  the  players. 

Marius  stayed  for  a  moment  standing,  studying  the  game. 
He  leant  over  to  his  companion  and  said  : 

"  Kindly  explain  to  me  how  I  must  act." 

The  master-stevedore  was  very  much  amused  at  the 
young  man's  naivete. 

"But,  my  good  fellow,"  he  answered,  "  nothing  is  easier. 
Where  have  you  come  from  ?  Everyone  knows  baccara. 
Come  here,  sit  down.  Place  your  stake  on  this  side  or 
that,  in  one  of  these  squares  surrounded  by  a  red  band. 
You  see  the  banker  makes  use  of  two  packs  of  cards  of 
different  coloured  backs  and  of  fifty-two  cards  each ;  he 
deals  two  cards  on  each  side  and  two  to  himself.  The 
tens  and  picture  cards  do  not  count ;  the  highest  point  is 
nine  and  it  is  necessary  to  get  as  near  that  as  possible. 
If  you  have  more  than  the  banker,  you  win ;  if  less,  you 
lose.  That's  all." 

"But,"  said  Marius,  "I  see  some  of  the  players  ask  for 
a  card." 

"Yes,"  answered  Sauvaire,  "you  are  allowed  to  draw  a 
card  to  arrange  your  hand.  You  often  disarrange  it.  I 
advise  you  to  always  stand  at  six;  it's  a  nice  point." 

Marius  sat  down  at  the  table. 

"  Don't  you  play  ? "  he  inquired  of  Sauvaire. 

"Faith,  no,"  answered  the  master-stevedore.  "  I  prefer 
having  a  laugh  with  Clairon." 

And  he  got  up  and  went  hanging  round  the  little 
brunette.  The  truth  was  that  he  was  afraid  of  losing  his 
cash.  He  found  gambling  ran  away  with  such  a  lot  of 
money.  The  excitement  of  winning  and  losing  was  too 
rapid  for  him:  he  wanted  solid,  lasting  enjoyment. 

The  banker  shuffled  the  cards. 

"Make  your  game,  gentlemen,"  he  said. 

Marius  placed  fifty  francs  on  the  cloth  with  a  shudder. 
He  had  decided  that  he  would  play  his  hundred  francs 
in  two  stakes. 

Red    light    passed    before    his   eyes;  he  heard  a  sort  of 


I  go  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

growling  within  him  which  made  him  feel  giddy;  his  ears 
tinkled  and  his  sight  was  troubled.  The  sensation  he 
experienced  was  so  violent  that  his  heart  almost  ceased 
beating.  "Nothing  more  goes!"  said  the  banker. 

And  he  dealt  the  cards.  It  was  Marius'  turn  to  take 
them.  He  picked  them  up  and  looked  at  them  in  a 
stupid  way.  He  had  five.  He  asked  for  cards  and 
remained  with  four.  The  hands  were  thrown  down.  The 
banker  had  three.  A  murmur  of  astonishment  passed 
round  the  table.  Marius  had  won. 

From  that  moment  the  young  man  was  beside  himself. 
He  lived  in  a  sort  of  dream.  He  remained  there  for 
more  than  five  hours,  downcast,  overcome,  sent  half  asleep 
by  the  monotony  of  the  game,  winning  always,  losing 
only  to  win  still  more.  He  played  with  an  audacity  that 
made  the  other  gamblers  tremble,  and  won  contrary  to 
every  probability,  clearing  out  the  bankers  one  after  the 
the  other. 

Beside  him  was  an  elderly  man  who  watched  him  with 
a  stupefied  and  envious  look.  This  person  at  length  bent 
towards  him  and  asked  him  in  a  low  tone  of  voice: 

"  Sir,  would  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  what  your 
mascotte  is  ?  " 

Marius  did  not  hear  him.  A  mascolte  in  the  slang  of 
Proven9al  gamblers,  is  a  sort  of  talisman  which  shields 
the  person  who  possesses  it  against  ill-luck.  All  gamblers 
are  more  or  less  superstitious  and  each  of  them  invents 
a  little  protecting  divinity  as  a  means  of  ensuring  fortune. 

The  old  gentleman  seemed  wounded  at  Marius'  silence. 

"I  don't  think  I  have  been  indiscreet,"  he  continued; 
"  I  should  have  been  curious  to  know  what  could  possibly 
have  given  you  such  luck.  I  don't  hide  what  I  do.  Here's 
my  mascotte." 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  displayed  an  image  of  the 
Virgin  Mary  inside  of  it.  If  Marius  had  been  calm,  he 
would  have  laughed ;  but  he  was  enervated  by  several 
hours'  play,  and  he  made  a  movement  of  impatience,  and 
continued  to  pile  up  the  gold  before  him  without  uttering 
a  single  word. 

Sauvaire,   who   was  astounded  at  his  companion's  luck, 


MARIUS   WINS   TEN   THOUSAND   FRANCS.       IQI 

had  placed  himself  behind  his  chair.  He  preferred  to 
watch  the  game  to  playing  himself.  He  enjoyed  the  sight 
of  large  sums  of  money  spread  out  on  the  gaming-table 
when  he  did  not  run  *he  risk  of  losing.  Clairon  and 
Isnarde  had  followed  him  and  leant  familiarly  on  the 
back  of  Marius'  seat.  They  bent  over  towards  the  young 
man,  smiled  at  him,  fondled  him  with  their  eyes.  The 
odour  of  gold  had  made  them  hasten  forward  like  birds 
of  prey. 

Five  o'clock  struck.  The  pale  daylight  was  streaming 
in  at  the  windows.  The  gamblers  went  off  one  by  one. 
Marius  ended  by  finding  himself  alone.  He  had  ten 
thousand  francs  in  winnings  before  him. 

The  young  man  would  have  sat  at  the  gaming-table  until 
evening,  until  the  following  day,  without  being  conscious 
of  it,  without  complaining  of  the  fatigue  which  was  over- 
powering him.  For  more  than  five  hours  he  had  been 
playing  mechanically,  having  but  one  idea  in  his  head, 
that  of  winning,  of  always  winning.  He  wanted  to  finish 
with  it  at  a  single  stroke,  to  win  the  sum  he  required  in 
one  night,  and  not  put  his  feet  in  the  hell  again. 

When  he  found  himself  alone  at  the  table,  stupid,  blind, 
his  limbs  aching  with  excitement  and  weariness,  he  was 
in  despair,  his  eyes  sought  someone  to  go  on  playing 
with.  He  had  just  counted  the  money  he  had  won, 
and  he  knew  it  only  amounted  to  ten  thousand  francs. 

He  wanted  five  thousand  francs  more.  He  would  have 
given  anything  in  the  world  for  day-light  not  to  have 
appeared.  Perhaps  he  might  have  had  time  to  complete 
Philippe's  ransom.  And  he  was  there,  staring  at  his  gold 
pieces,  putting  them  slowly  into  his  pocket,  folding  up  the 
bank  notes  one  by  one,  looking  round  the  room  for  a 
belated  gambler. 

There  was  a  man  at  a  small  table  near  him  who  had 
been  watching  the  play  all  the  evening,  without  risking 
anything  himself.  When  he  had  seen  Marius  winning, 
he  had  approached  and  had  not  lost  sight  of  him.  He 
seemed  to  be  waiting.  He  let  the  other  gamblers  go  away 
one  by  one,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  young  man,  following 
the  fever  that  agitated  him,  lying  in  wait  for  him  as  for 


I Q2  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

a  sure  prey.  When  the  latter,  vexed  and  shivering, 
was  making  up  his  mind  to  leave,  the  stranger  rose 
hurriedly  and  approached  him. 

"Sir,"  he  inquired,  "will  you  have  a  game  at  ecarte 
with  me  ?  " 

Marius  was  about  to  accept  joyfully,  when  Sauvaire,  who 
was  following  him  step  by  step,  seized  him  by  the  arm, 
and  whispered : 

"Don't  play." 

The  young  man  turned  round  and  threw  an  inquiring 
look  on  the  master-stevedore. 

"  Don't  play,"  the  latter  continued,  "if  you  wish  to  keep 
the  ten  thousand  francs  you've  got  in  your  pocket.  For 
the  love  of  Providence,  refuse  and  come  quickly.  You 
will  thank  me  afterwards." 

Marius  had  a  good  mind  not  to  listen  to  Sauvaire;  but 
the  master-stevedore  got  him  little  by  little  near  the  door, 
and  seeing  him  hesitate  he  undertook  to  speak  for  him. 

"No,  no,  Monsieur  Felix,"  he  said  to  the  man  who 
was  offering  to  play  ecarte,  "  my  friend  is  tired,  he  can't 
stay  any  longer.  Good  day,  Monsieur  Felix." 

M.  Felix  seemed  very  much  annoyed  at  this  answer. 
He  stared  fixedly  at  Sauvaire  as  if  to  say  to  him :  "  What 
the  deuce  are  you  meddling  with  ?  "  Then  he  turned  on 
his  heels,  whistled  between  his  teeth  and  murmured : 

"And  so  I've  lost  my  night." 

Sauvaire  had  not  let  go  of  Marius.  When  they  were 
both  in  the  street,  the  young  man  inquired  of  his  companion 
in  an  irritated  tone: 

"  Why  did  you  prevent  me  playing  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  Poor  innocent,"  answered  the  master-stevedore, 
"  because  I  took  pity  on  you,  because  I  didn't  want  M. 
Felix  to  win  your  ten  thousand  francs  from  you." 

"  That  man's  a  rascal  then  ?  " 

"  Oh !  no,  he  remains  within  the  strictest  limits  of 
honesty." 

"Then  I  should  have  won." 

"  No,  you  would  have  lost.  The  calculations  of  M. 
Felix  are  sure.  This  is  how  he  proceeds.  He  never  plays 
during  the  night.  Towards  morning,  when  the  other 


MARIUS   WINS   TEN   THOUSAND   FRANCS.        193 

players  are  racked  with  fever,  he  addresses  one  of  them 
and  makes  him  seat  himself  at  an  ecarte  table.  It  is  no 
longer  a  question  of  a  game  of  chance,  but  of  a  game  in 
which  you  need  all  your  intelligence,  and  all  your  calm. 
M.  Felix  is  calm  and  prudent;  he  has  a  head  that  is  fresh 
and  reposed ;  his  adversary  is  feverish,  blind,  he  does  not 
even  see  his  cards,  and  in  a  few  deals  he  is  stripped  in 
the  most  straightforward  fashion  in  the  world." 

"  I  understand  and  I  thank  you." 

"  M.  Felix  has  already  won  quite  a  fortune  by  putting 
his  system  into  practice  every  evening.  But  I  repeat  that 
he  plays  in  a  perfectly  honourable  manner,  only  he  arranges 
things  in  such  a  way  that  his  adversaries  always  play  like 
perfect  jackasses;  and  that  is  how  clever  people  succeed. 
If  I  were  in  his  place  I'd  take  out  a  patent." 

Marius  remained  silent.  The  two  men  had  stopped  in 
the  middle  of  the  deserted  street  opposite  the  entrance 
to  the  Corneille  Club.  It  was  wet,  foggy  weather,  nasty 
odours  hovered  over  the  pavement,  and  there  was  a 
piercing  chill  in  the  matinal  breeze.  Buttoned  up  to  their 
chins,  both  shivering,  they  reeled  about  like  drunkards, 
their  pale  countenances  and  sparkless  eyes  telling  the  few 
passers-by,  what  sort  of  night  they  had  just  passed. 

As  Marius  was  about  to  go  off,  he  felt  an  arm  slipped 
in  his.  He  turned  and  recognised  Isnarde.  Clairon  had 
just  taken  Sauvaire's  arm.  The  two  women  had  not  lost 
sight  of  these  men  who  smelt  of  gold ;  they  had  followed 
them,  ravenous  at  the  thought  of  the  ten  thousand  francs 
that  Marius  had  on  him,  and  determined  to  have  their 
share  of  the  amount.  The  young  man  appeared  to  them 
a  simpleton  whom  they  could  master  without  difficulty 
and  strip  at  their  ease. 

Isnarde  burst  into  a  laugh,  and  said,  in  a  slightly  groggy 
voice, 

"  Are  you  going  to  bed  already,  gentlemen  ?  " 

Marius  rapidly  withdrew  his  arm  with  an  air  of  repugnance 
which  he  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  disguise. 

"My  loves,"  answered  Sauvaire,  "I  am  willing  to  stand 
you  a  breakfast.  Eh !  Promise  me  to  be  very  amusing. 
Are  you  coming,  Marius?" 


I Q4  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  No,"  answered  the  young  man,  sharply. 

"Ah!  This  gentleman  is  not  coming,"  said  Clairon,  in 
a  drawling  voice.  "  Ah  !  That's  a  pity.  He  would  have 
stood  us  champagne.  He  owes  us  at  least  that." 

Marius  felt  in  his  pockets,  pulled  two  handfuls  of  gold 
out  of  them  and  passed  them  to  Clairon  and  Isnarde.  The 
women  pocketed  the  money  without  being  in  the  least 
degree  put  out. 

"Until  to-night,"  said  Marius. 

"  Until  to-night,"  answered  the  master-stevedore. 

He  took  one  of  the  women  on  each  arm  and  went  off 
in  that  way,  singing  and  creating  a  frightful  disturbance 
in  the  quiet  thoroughfare. 

Marius  watched  him  move  away,  and  then  proceeded  to  his 
peaceful  little  room  in  the  Rue  Sainte.  It  was  six  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  He  went  to  bed  and  slept  like  a  top. 
He  only  awoke  at  two  o'clock. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  he  perceived  the  money  he 
had  won.  The  reddish  reflex  running  over  the  gold  almost 
frightened  him;  all  at  once  the  night  he  had  passed  came 
back  to  him  with  singular  distinctiveness,  and  he  felt  a 
formidable  choking  sensation  in  the  throat.  He  was  afraid 
of  becoming  a  gambler,  for  his  first  thought  on  awakening 
was  that  he  would  return  to  the  "hell"  in  the  evening 
and  would  win  again.  At  this  idea  a  tremor  passed  through 
him,  he  became  feverish  and  enjoyed  a  moment  of  vo- 
luptuous delight. 

And  he  repeated  to  himself:  "No,  it  is  not  true,  I 
cannot  be  possessed  of  that  horrible  passion,  I  cannot 
have  become  a  gambler  from  one  day  to  another;  I  gamble 
to  deliver  Philippe,  I  don't  play  for  myself."  He  did  not 
dare  interrogate  himself  further. 

Then  he  thought  of  Fine,  and  he  had  to  make  an  effort 
to  restrain  his  sobs.  He  said  to  himself  that  he  already 
had  ten  thousand  francs  and  that  he  could  dispense  with 
returning  to  the  gambling-house  ;  assuredly  he  could  easily 
find  five  thousand  francs;  he  would  not  run  the  risk  of 
losing  what  he  had  won. 

He  dressed  himself  and  went  out  into  the  street.  His 
head  was  bursting.  He  did  not  even  think  of  going  to  his 


HOW   MARIUS   HAD   BLOOD   OX    HIS    HANDS.    195 

office,  he  entered  a  restaurant  but  could  not  eat.  Every- 
thing he  saw  seemed  to  be  turning,  and  at  times  he  felt 
a  choking  sensation  as  if  he  were  all  at  once  in  want  of 
breath.  When  night  came  he  went,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
step  by  step,  to  the  Corneille  Club. 

CHAPTER  XV. 
HOW    MARIUS    HAD    BLOOD    OX    HIS    HANDS. 

Ox  entering  the  room  Marius  perceived  Sauvairc  seated 
at  a  table  between  Clairon  and  Isnarde.  The  master- 
stevedore  had  not  quitted  the  two  girls  since  the  morning. 
He  rose,  stepped  forward  and  pressed  the  young  man's 
hand. 

"Ah!  my  friend,"  he  said,  "how  wrong  you  were  not 
to  have  come  with  us!  We  amused  ourselves  immensely. 
These  charmers  are  so  funny !  They  would  make  stones 
laugh.  They  are  the  sort  of  ladies  I  like!" 

He  dragged  Marius  to  the  table  where  Clairon  and 
Isnarde  were  drinking  beer.  The  young  man  sat  down 
with  a  good  deal  of  ill  grace. 

"Sir,"  said  Isnarde  to  him,  "would  you  like  me  to  go 
into  partnership  with  you  to-night?'' 

"No,"  he  answered,  drily. 

"  He's  quite  right  to  refuse,"  cried  Sauvaire,  in  a  noisy 
voice.  "You  want  to  ruin  him,  my  dear.  You  know  the 
proverb:  'Luckv  at  cards,  unlucky  in  love'." 

And  he  added  in  a  low  voice  addressing  his  companion: 

"  Why  don't  you  make  friends  with  her  ?  Don't  you 
see  the  glances  she  is  casting  at  you?" 

Marius  rose  without  answering  and  went  and  sat  at  the 
card  table.  A  game  was  about  to  commence  and  he  was 
impatient  to  return  to  the  sensations  of  the  previous  night. 

He  wished  to  follow  the  same  tactics.  lie  placed 
fifty  francs  on  the  cloth  and  lost  them;  he  put  fifty  others 
there,  and  lost  them  also. 

Gamblers  are  justly  fatalists,  they  know  bv  experience 
that  chance  has  its  laws,  like  everything  else  in  this  world; 


196  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

that  it  labours  sometimes  for  a  whole  night  to  make  a 
man's  fortune,  and  that  often,  the  next  day,  it  works  his 
ruin  with  the  same  persistence.  A  moment  comes  when 
chance  turns,  \vhen  a  person  who  has  won  a  long  series 
of  hands,  loses  another  series  that  is  quite  as  long.  Marius 
had  arrived  at  one  of  those  terrible  moments. 

He  lost  five  times  in  succession.  Sauvaire,  who  had 
drawn  near  and  was  following  his  game,  bent  over  him 
and  said  rapidly: 

"  Don't  play  to-night,  you  are  not  in  luck.  You  will 
lose  all  you  won  yesterday." 

The  young  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently. 
His  throat  became  dry  and  the  perspiration  stood  out  on 
his  forehead. 

"Leave  me  alone,"  he  answered  sharply,  "I  know  what 
I  am  doing.  I  want  all  or  nothing." 

"As  you  please,"  replied  the  master-stevedore.  "I 
have  gained  some  experience  during  the  ten  years  I  have 
been  playing  and  watching  others  play.  In  a  few  hours, 
my  good  fellow,  you  will  not  have  a  sou  left.  It  always 
happens  like  that." 

He  took  a  chair  and  sat  down  behind  Marius,  wishing 
to  be  present  when  his  predictions  were  realized.  Clairon 
and  Isnarde,  who  hoped  to  gather  up  a  few  pieces  of  gold, 
as  on  the  previous  day,  also  came  and  placed  themselves 
near  the  young  man.  They  laughed,  gave  themselves  airs, 
and  Sauvaire,  from  time  to  time,  joked  noisily  with  them. 
The  bursts  of  laughter  and  tittering  which  Marius  heard 
behind  him  exasperated  him.  He  was  on  the  point  of 
turning  round  two  or  three  times  to  send  Sauvaire  and 
the  girls  to  the  Prince  of  Darkness.  In  despair  at  losing, 
enervated  by  the  strange  and  terrible  hands  that  chance 
gave  him,  he  felt  his  anger  rising  within  him  and  would 
have  been  glad  to  vent  it  on  someone. 

He  had  played  at  first  as  on  the  previous  night,  with 
audacity  and  decision,  risking  hands  of  five  and  relying 
on  his  good  luck;  but  that  luck  had  gone,  his  audacity 
did  not  serve  him.  Then  he  wanted  to  act  prudently; 
he  dodged  chance,  calculated  the  probabilities,  and  finally 
played  cleverly.  He  lost  just  as  often  as  before.  On 


HOW   MARIUS   HAD   BLOOD   ON   HIS   HANDS.      197 

several  occasions  he  had  eight  and  the  banker  nine. 
Fortune  seemed  to  take  bitter  pleasure  in  stripping  him 
on  whom  she  had  showered  her  favours.  It  was  indeed 
a  fight  to  the  death,  and  at  each  fresh  attack,  at  each 
hand  of  cards,  Marius  was  vanquished.  At  the  expiration 
of  an  hour  he  had  already  lost  four  thousand  francs. 

Sauvaire  kept  singing  out  behind  him : 

"  What  did  I  say  ?     I  was  certain  of  it !  " 

And  Clairon  and  Isnarde,  who  saw  the  bits  of  gold  on 
which  they  relied  disappearing,  began  to  make  fun  of  the 
young  man  and  to  look  about  for  someone  more  lucky. 

Marius  bewildered  in  front  of  the  gulf  open  before  him, 
turned  towards  Sauvaire  and  said  to  him  in  a  choking 
voice : 

"  You  who  know  how  to  play,  tell  me  what  to  do." 

"  Oh !  "  answered  the  master-stevedore,  "  if  you  were 
to  play  like  an  angel  you  would  lose.  Chance  is  blind, 
it  goes,  you  see,  where  it  likes,  one  can  never  direct  it. 
You  had  better  withdraw." 

"No,  no,  I'll  see  it  out." 

"Well  then!     Let  us  try.     Play  the  series." 

Marius  played  the  series.  Hand  on  hand  he  lost  five 
hundred  francs. 

"  The  deuce !  "  exclaimed  Sauvaire.  "  Play  intermission 
then." 

Marius  played  intermission  and  lost  again. 

"  I  warned  you,  I  warned  you,"  repeated  the  master- 
stevedore,  "  Try  a  martingale." 

Marius  tried  a  martingale  and  had  no  better  luck. 

"It's  enough  to  drive  one  mad,"  he  exclaimed  in  anger. 

"Don't  play  any  more,"  said  Sauvaire. 

"Yes,   I  will  play,   I'll  play  to  the  end." 

The  master-stevedore  rose,  whistling  between  his  teeth. 
He  could  not  understand  his  friend's  nervous  obstinacy, 
he  who  never  risked  more  than  a  hundred  francs  on  the 
green  cloth. 

"  Look  here !  "  he  continued,  "  the  banker  has  thrown 
up  his  hand  and  is  leaving.  Take  his  place.  That  will 
perhaps  change  the  luck." 

Marius  took  the  banker's  seat.     He  paid  two  francs  for 


198  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

cards  and  slipped  a  franc  into  the  slot  in  accordance 
with  the  custom  of  the  club.  He  shuffled  the  cards  and 
then  presented  them  to  the  players,  saying: 

"  Gentlemen,  the  cards  pass." 

Some  of  the  players  shuffled  the  cards  again  and  returned 
them  to  Marius,  who  shuffled  them  a  third  time  as  was 
his  right.  The  game  began  again.  The  young  man 
could  now  lose  all  he  had  in  a  few  hands. 

He  lost  twice  running.  Sauvaire  continued  to  remain 
behind  him.  He  ended  by  taking  an  interest  in  this 
intrepid  youth.  The  latter  was  about  to  deal  the  cards 
again  to  the  players,  to  the  punters  as  they  are  called, 
when  the  master-stevedore  stopped  his  arm  and  leaning 
over  to  his  ear,  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Take  care,  they  are  robbing  you.  You  are  dealing 
the  cards  like  a  young  innocent." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  hold  them  up  as  you  deal  them,  so  that  the 
punters  opposite  see  them  pass  and  know  what  you  have 
in  your  hand.  All  new  bankers  are  victimized  like  that. 
Keep  the  pack  slanting  in  your  hand  and  lower  the  cards 
as  you  deal  them  out." 

Marius  followed  this  wise  advice  and  did  very  well. 
He  won.  In  a  few  hands  he  had  got  back  a  fairly  large 
sum.  Then  chance  turned  again  and  he  lost.  Next  a 
sort  of  equilibrium  was  established  between  his  winning 
and  losings.  Little  by  littte,  however,  he  felt  the  ten 
thousand  francs  slipping  through  his  fingers. 

He  neglected  nothing  to  make  his  luck  change.  On 
several  occasions  he  stopped  and  called  for  fresh  cards. 
At  another  time  he  dealt  his  hand  right  out,  in  order  to 
lead  chance  astray  and  bring  it  back  to  him. 

But  all  these  tactics  did  him  no  good.  Fortune  now 
seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  playing  with  its  prey,  in 
making  it  suffer  longer  and  not  killing  it  at  one  blow; 
then,  all  at  once,  she  scratched  it,  she  took  away  what 
she  had  just  given  and  even  more. 

Sauvaire  kept  watch  round  the  table,  so  as  to  see  that 
his  friend  was  not  cheated  too  much.  The  latter  had  a 
man  opposite  him  who  was  still  young  and  who  although 


HOW  MARIUS   HAD   BLOOD   OX   HIS   HANDS.    199 

playing  for  small  stakes  must  already  have  won  a  good 
round  sum;  each  time  the  cards  were  favourable  to  him 
his  stake  was  twenty-five  francs,  and  each  time  he  lost 
lie  had  only  a  silver  five-franc  piece  before  him,  which 
was  a  mascotle,  he  said,  and  he  paid  with  another  coin. 

The  master-stevedore  looked  on  this  man  with  distrust. 
He  watched  his  movements  and  perceived  that  he  concealed 
a  twenty-franc  gold  piece  under  his  five-franc  piece  in  silver ; 
when  he  won  he  displayed  it  all  and  pocketed  twenty- 
five  francs ;  when  he  lost  he  left  the  gold  coin  hidden 
under  the  large  silver  piece  and  only  gave  Marius  five 
francs.  It  seems  that  not  a  night  passes  without  this 
clever  robbery  being  practised  in  one  of  the  gambling- 
houses  at  Marseilles. 

"  Wait  a  bit,  wait  a  bit,"  murmured  Sauvaire,  "I'll  nail 
you,  my  gentleman.'' 

In  the  hand  that  followed,  Marius  won.  The  cheat 
was  preparing  to  give  him  five  francs  in  change,  when 
Sauvaire  stretched  out  his  arm  gave  a  flip  to  the  five- 
franc  piece  and  uncovered  the  gold  coin  beneath  it. 

•'You    arc  cheating,  sir,"   he  exclaimed,   "out  you  go!" 

The  rascal  did  not  lose  countenance. 

"  What  are  you  meddling  with  ?  "  he  answered,  insolently. 

He  left  his  twenty-five  francs  on  the  table,  rose,  took 
a  few  turns  in  the  room  and  withdrew  without  molesta- 
tion. The  punters  had  limited  themselves  to  growling. 

Marius  turned  very  pale.  He  had  fallen,  then,  so  low 
as  that,  he  was  playing  with  thieves.  From  that  moment 
there  was  a  cloud  before  his  eyes  which  made  him 
(.•'••mmit  the  grossest  blunders.  He  lost  and  was  almost 
happy  to  lose.  All  the  fever  hail  left  him,  he  no  longer 
had  the  uncomfortable  feeling  in  his  throat.  The  money 
wiien  he  touched  it  was  burning  hot;  he  would  have 
liked  to  have  lost  the  whole  of  it  and  to  have  gone  away 
with  empty  pockets. 

Soon  he  had  no  more  than  two  or  three  hundred  francs 
in -fore  him. 

Since  the  commencement  of  the  evening  he  had  had  a 
y»ung  man  beside  him  who  had  followed  all  the  changes 
i >f  fortune  with  livelv  anxietv.  As  he  lost,  he  became 


200  THE  MYSTERIES  OF   MARSEILLES. 

more  pale  and  haggard.  He  had  begun  with  a  con- 
siderable sum  before  him  and  gazed  in  despair  on  each 
piece  of  gold  as  it  was  swept  away.  Marius  had  heard 
him  more  than  once  utter  disjointed  words  and  had  felt 
anxious  about  him.  He  could  see  that  a  frightful  drama 
was  being  performed  at  his  elbow. 

A  final  stroke  completed  his  neighbour's  ruin.  He 
remained  for  a  moment  motionless,  with  contracted  features. 
Then  he  placed  a  hand  over  his  eyes,  drew  a  pistol 
rapidly  from  his  pocket,  placed  the  barrel  in  his  mouth, 
and  fired. 

There  was  a  sound  like  the  crack  of  a  whip.  The 
blood  spurted  out  and  large  warm  crimson  drops  fell  on 
Marius'  hands. 

All  the  players  had  risen  in  a  fright.  The  body  had 
just  fallen  on  the  table,  the  arms  folded,  the  head  hang- 
ing down.  The  bullet  after  piercing  the  neck  had  came 
out  on  the  right  below  the  ear,  and  there  was  a  red  hole 
there,  from  which  ran  a  stream  of  blood.  A  pool  of  gore 
was  formed  on  the  green  cloth;  and,  in  this  pool,  the 
abandoned  cards  were  soaking. 

Alarming  sentences,  uttered  in  undertones,  passed  among 
the  gamblers. 

"Do  you  know  the  poor  fellow?  " 

"  I  think  it's  a  collector  of  Lambert  &  Co." 

"  His  family  is  honourable.  His  brother  purchased  a 
solicitor's  practice  six  months  ago." 

"  He  must  have  embezzled  a  large  sum  and  killed  him- 
self when  he  lost  it." 

"  Anyhow  he  might  have  shot  himself  somewhere  else. 
The  police  will  be  here  in  twenty  minutes  and  close  the 
club." 

"  These  people  who  have  a  mania  for  killing  themselves 
are  most  annoying.  We  were  very  well  here,  we  could 
gamble  at  ease.  Now  we  must  move." 

"Have  they  sent  to  inform  the  police  commissary?" 

"Yes." 

"I'm  off." 

There  was  a  general  stampede.  The  players  seized  their 
hats  and  prudently  slipped  out  on  to  the  landing.  One 


HOW   MARIUS   HAD   BLOOD   ON    HIS   HANDS.    2OI 

could     hear    them    stumbling    downstairs    like    drunkards. 

Marius  had  remained  seated  beside  the  corpse.  He 
could  not  move  hand  or  foot.  He  sat  looking  in  a  stupid 
way  at  the  suicide's  red  neck  and  the  splashes  of  blood 
covering  his  own  hands.  His  hair  stood  on  end,  sparks 
of  madness  flashed  in  his  eyes  which  were  almost  starting 
out  of  his  head.  He  still  held  the  pack  of  cards.  All  at 
once  he  threw  them  down,  shook  his  hands  violently,  as 
if  to  get  rid  of  the  blood  that  was  running  between  his 
fingers,  and  uttering  a  harsh  cry,  fled. 

He  did  not  even  pick  up  the  few  hundreds  of  francs 
that  were  before  him.  The  pool  increased  little  by  little, 
and  the  bits  of  gold  now  seemed  bathed  in  a  stream  of 
blood. 

Only  the  corpse  and  the  two  girls  remained  in  the  room. 
Sauvaire  had  been  one  of  the  first  to  fly.  When  Clairon 
and  Isnarde  found  themselves  alone  they  approached  the 
table  attracted  by  the  gold  glittering  in  the  blood. 

"  Let's  divide,"  said   Isnarde. 

"Yes,  let's  be  quick,"  answered  Clairon,  "it's  no  good 
giving  the  police  the  money." 

And  each  of  them  took  a  handful  of  gold  from  the 
middle  of  the  crimson  pool.  The  coins  stained  with  gore 
disappeared  in  their  pockets;  then  they  wiped  their  fingers 
on  their  handkerchiefs  and  in  their  turn  (led,  gasping  for 
breath  and  fancying  they  heard  the  voice  of  the  police 
commissary  behind  them. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Great  gusts  of 
wind  were  driving  along  the  big,  dark  clouds  that  studded 
the  grey  sky  with  black.  A  sort  of  mist  floated  in  the 
air  and  fell  in  fine,  icy  cold  rain.  There  is  nothing  more 
mournful  than  those  hours  of  the  early  morning  in  a  great 
city:  the  streets  arc  dirty,  the  houses  stand  out  in  sad 
silhouettes. 

Marius  ran  like  a  madman  through  the  silent  and 
deserted  streets.  He  slipped  on  the  greasy  stones,  dipping 
his  feet  in  the  gutters,  and  knocking  up  against  the  corners 
of  the  pavement.  And  he  continued  running  with  his 
arms  extended  before  him,  wringing  his  hands  in  furious 
rage.  He  wanted  to  go  and  clip  them  in  the  sea 


202  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

and  wash  them  with  all  the  water  of  the  ocean.  There 
only,  could  he  find  relief  for  the  terrible  burn  that  was 
devouring  him. 

He  ran,  alarmed  and  fierce,  still  wringing  his  hands  and 
taking  out-of-the-way  streets  like  a  murderer.  At  moments 
he  was  half  mad;  he  imagined  it  was  he  who  had  killed 
the  suicide  to  rob  him  of  fifteen  thousand  francs.  Then 
he  heard  the  heavy  tread  of  the  gendarmes  behind  him, 
he  hastened  the  pace,  not  knowing  where  to  hide  his 
hands  which  would  bear  witness  against  him. 

He  had  to  cross  the  Cours  Belzunce.  Workmen  were 
passing  along  under  the  trees,  and  he  experienced  most 
horrible  anguish.  To  avoid  descending  to  the  harbour  by 
the  Cannebiere,  he  plunged  into  the  old  town.  There  the 
streets  are  dark  and  narrow  and  no  one  could  see  his 
blood-stained  hands. 

He  reached  the  Place  aux  CEufs.  It  was  only  then 
that  he  thought  of  Fine,  he  remembered  all  at  once  that 
she  was  matinal,  that  she  might  already  be  on  the  Place 
and  would  see  him  covered  with  blood.  She  would 
question  him  and  he  would  be  unable  to  answer  her. 
He  knew  nothing,  all  was  confusion  in  his  head,  he  found 
himself  lost  in  a  nightmare.  His  hands  burned  him,  that 
was  all,  and  he  continued  running ;  ran  to  go  and  plunge 
them  in  the  sea  and  extinguish  the  coals  clinging  to  his  flesh. 

He  descended  the  narrow  streets,  the  steep  inclines,  at 
the  risk  of  breaking  his  head  twenty  times  over.  Twice 
he  slipped  and  fell ;  each  time  he  rose  with  a  bound  and 
continued  his  race. 

At  length,  he  perceived  the  black  masses  of  vessels  lying 
silent  in  the  dense  water  of  the  Port.  He  ran  along  the 
white,  polished  slabs  of  stone ;  and  as  he  could  find  no 
boat,  he  for  an  instant  had  the  insane  idea  of  flinging 
himself  into  the  water,  and  thus  appeasing  his  sufferings 
at  a  single  stroke.  The  burns  he  thought  he  felt,  became 
intolerable.  He  yelled  and  wept. 

But  having  at  last  found  a  little  pleasure-craft  fastened 
at  the  edge  of  the  quay,  he  leapt  into  it,  lay  down  on 
his  stomach  and  feverishly  plunged  his  arms  into  the  sea 
up  to  the  shoulders. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRE'S   PRAYER-BOOK.        203 

A  profound  sigh  of  relief  escaped  him.  The  cool  water 
appeased  his  fever,  the  wavelets  washed  away  the  blood 
that  was  gnawing  into  his  hands. 

He  remained  lying  thus  for  a  long  time,  forgetting  all, 
not  even  remembering  win-  he  was  there.  Every  now  and 
then  he  drew  his  arms  out  of  the  water  and  furiously 
rubbed  his  hands,  looked  at  them  and  rubbed  them  again. 
He  seemed  always  to  perceive  large  red  spots  on  his  skin. 
Then  he  plunged  his  arms  into  the  sea  again,  made  the 
water  move  gently  to  and  fro,  enjoying  intense  delight  at 
the  sensation  of  the  cold  seizing  him  and  sending  a  shiver 
all  over  his  body. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour,  lie  was  still  there,  thinking  there 
would  never  be  sufficient  water  in  the  sea  to  wash  his 
hands.  However,  little  by  little,  his  ideas  became  calm 
and  his  head  heavy.  It  seemed  as  if  his  brain  were  empty. 
Icy  shivers  ran  over  all  his  limbs.  Mechanically,  step  by 
step,  he  reached  the  RueSainte,  without  thinking  of  anything. 
He  no  longer  knew  where  he  had  come  from,  nor  what 
he  had  done.  He  went  to  bed  and  was  seized  with  a 
terrible  fever. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
MADEMOISELLE    CLAIRE'S    PRAYER-BOOK. 

MAKIUS  remained  three  weeks  in  bed  a  prey  to  violent 
delirium.  He  had  an  attack  of  acute  cerebral  (ever  which 
brought  him  to  death's  door.  His  youth,  and  the  tender 
attention  he  received,  saved  him. 

One  evening,  at  twilight,  he  opened  his  eves  with  a 
clear  head.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  issued  from 
profound  darkness.  He  was  so  weak  that  he  had  no 
feeling  in  his  body;  but  the  fever  had  disappeared,  and 
his  thoughts,  which  were  still  vacillating,  returned  to  him. 

The  curtains  were  drawn  round  his  bed.  A  soft,  warm 
light  came  through  the  white  linen  and  surrounded  him 
with  gentle  brightness.  The  air  of  the  silent  room  was 
pervaded  with  perfume.  He  raised  himself.  And  at  the 


204  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

slight  noise  he  made,  he  saw  a  shadow  glide  behind  the 
curtains. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  he  inquired,  in  a  voice  that  was  hardly 
distinct. 

A  hand  quietly  drew  aside  the  curtains,  and  Fine,  seeing 
Marius  sitting  up,  exclaimed  joyfully: 

"Heaven  be  praised!     You  are  saved,  my  friend." 

And  she  began  to  weep.  The  invalid  understood  all, 
and  extended  his  poor  thin  hands  towards  the  girl. 

"Thanks,"  he  said  to  her,  "I  knew  you  were  there. 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  had  a  frightful  dream ;  and,  I  remember 
now,  in  the  midst  of  that  dream,  I  saw  you  bending  over 
me  like  a  mother." 

He  let  his  head  fall  on  the  pillow  and  continued  in  a 
childish  voice : 

"  I  have  been  very  ill,  have  I  not  ?  " 

"All  is  over,  do  not  let  us  think  of  such  disagreeable 
things,"  said  the  flower-girl  gaily.  "But  where  had  you 
been  to,  my  friend,  the  sleeves  of  your  coat  were  all  wet  ?  " 

Marius  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead. 

"Oh!     I  remember,"  he  exclaimed,  "it's  frightful!" 

Then  he  gave  Fine  an  account  of  the  two  terrible  nights 
he  had  passed  in  the  gambling-house.  He  made  her  a 
confession,  retracing  in  detail  all  he  had  suffered. 

"It's  a  terrible  lesson,"  he  remarked,  in  conclusion.  "I 
doubted  and  turned  to  chance.  For  a  moment  I  shuddered. 
I  fancied  I  felt  all  the  instincts  of  the  gambler  within  me. 
But  I've  been  cured  with  a  red-hot  iron." 

He  stopped  and  then  continued  anxiously: 

"  How  long  have  I  been  ill  ?  " 

"About  three  weeks,"  answered  Fine. 

"Oh!  Heavens!  Three  weeks  lost.  We  have  only 
about  twenty  days  before  us." 

"Do  not  trouble  about  that,  but  get  well." 

"  Hasn't  M.  Martelly  sent  to  inquire  about  me  ?  " 

"  Don't  worry  yourself,  I  tell  you.  I  have  been  to  see 
him  and  everything  is  arranged." 

Marius  seemed  more  calm  and  Fine  continued : 

"  There  is  only  one  course  to  follow,  and  that  is  to 
borrow  money  of  M.  Martelly.  We  should  have  commenced 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRE'S   PRAYER-BOOK.      205 

by  that.  All  will  be  well.  Now,  sleep,  do  not  speak ;  the 
doctor  has  forbidden  it." 

The  convalescence  advanced  at  rapid  strides,  thanks  to 
Fine's  tender  and  devoted  care.  The  young  girl  understood 
that  her  smile  would  now  suffice  to  cure  Marius,  and 
each  morning,  she  came  with  that  and  her  fresh  breath 
which  filled  the  little  room  with  a  puff  of  spring. 

"Ah!  how  nice  it  is  to  be  ill!"  the  invalid  often 
repeated. 

The  two  lovers  passed  a  charming  week  in  this  way. 
Their  love  had  increased,  amidst  the  suffering  and  dread 
of  death.  A  new  bond  united  them.  Henceforth  they 
were  one. 

When,  at  the  expiration  of  a  week  of  gay  and 
touching  intimacy,  Marius  was  able  to  get  downstairs  and 
go  for  a  short  walk  in  the  sun  on  the  Cours  Bonaparte, 
he  and  Fine  were  taken  for  two  lovers  on  the  morrow  of 
their  betrothal.  They  had  been  affianced  in  the  midst  of 
devotedness  and  grief.  Now,  as  they  walked  along  slowly, 
the  flower-girl  supported  the  young  man,  who  was  still 
weak,  and  gazed  at  him  with  bewitching  eyes.  She  was 
proud  of  her  work,  proud  at  her  lover's  recovery,  and  he 
thanked  her  with  smiles  full  of  passionate  gratitude. 

The  next  day,  the  clerk  wished  to  go  back  to  his 
office,  and  Fine  had  to  get  angry  to  make  him  remain  at 
home  a  day  or  two  longer.  He  was  impatient  to  see 
M.  Martelly;  he  desired  to  feel  the  ground  and  ascertain 
if  he  could  rely  on  the  ship-owner. 

"But  there  is  no  hurry,"  said  the  flower-girl,  with  a 
calmness  that  astounded  the  young  man.  "  We  have  a 
whole  week  before  us.  It  will  suffice  if  we  have  the  money 
at  the  last  moment." 

At  the  end  of  two  days  Marius  obtained  the  young 
girl's  permission  to  return  to  his  work,  and  it  was 
arranged  between  them  that  they  would  leave  for  Aix  on 
the  following  Monday.  Fine  spoke  as  if  she  had  the 
amount  necessary  for  Philippe's  liberty  in  her  pocket. 

Marius  went  to  his  office  and  was  received  by  M. 
Martelly  with  paternal  kindness.  The  ship-owner  wanted 
to  give  him  another  week's  holiday,  but  the  young  man 


206  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

assured  him  that  work  would  complete  his  convalescence. 
He  felt  ashamed  in  his  presence,  he  was  thinking  that  in 
two  or  three  days  he  would  be  making  an  effort  to  borrow 
a  large  sum  of  money  from  him  and  that  thought  troubled 
him,  moreover  M.  Martelly  gazed  at  him  with  a  piercing 
look  that  quite  embarrassed  him. 

"  I  have  seen  Mademoiselle  Fine,"  said  the  ship-owner 
accompanying  him  to  his  office,  "  she  is  a  charming  person, 
a  noble  heart.  Be  very  fond  of  her,  my  friend." 

He  smiled  again  and  withdrew.  When  Marius  was 
alone  he  experienced  inestimable  delight  at  finding  himself 
in  the  small  office  where  he  had  lived  and  worked  so  long. 
He  again  took  possession  of  his  little  domain,  found 
pleasure  in  seating  himself  before  his  table,  in  touching 
the  papers  and  pens  lying  there.  He  had  been  almost 
dead  and  he  was  once  more  face  to  face  with  his  daily 
placid  existence. 

The  room  in  which  he  was  working,  was  opposite  the 
ship-owner's  private  apartments  and  sometimes  visitors  made 
a  mistake  and  knocked  at  his  door.  On  that  particular 
morning  as  he  was  about  to  get  to  work,  he  heard  two 
discreet  knocks  and  shouted  to  come  in. 

A  man  dressed  in  a  long  black  frock  coat  made  his 
appearance.  His  face  was  shaven,  his  manner  was  gentle 
and  he  had  all  the  humble  and  sneaking  demeanour  of  a 
person  connected  with  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 

"Mademoiselle  Claire  Martelly?"  he  inquired. 

Marius,  who  was  occupied  in  examining  him,  did  not 
answer :  he  was  wondering  where  on  earth  he  had  seen 
this  devout  personage  before.  The  man  was  hesitating, 
but  he  at  last  pulled  a  prayer-book  confined  in  a  case, 
out  of  the  immense  pockets  of  his  overcoat. 

"I  have  brought  her,"  he  continued,  in  a  fluty  voice, 
"  her  prayer-book,  which  she  forgot  yesterday  evening  in 
a  confessional." 

Marius  continued  wondering :  "  Where  on  earth  have  I 
seen  the  face  of  that  canting  rascal  ? "  The  man  no 
doubt  understood  the  mute  interrogation  of  his  look.  He 
bent  his  head  slightly,  adding: 

"I  am  the  beadle  at  the  Church  of  St.  Victor." 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRE'S    PRAYER-BOOK.       207 

These  few  words  were  like  a  beam  of  light  for  the  young 
man.  He  remembered  having  seen  the  individual  before 
him  in  the  vestry-room,  on  one  occasion  when  he  went 
to  fetch  Abbe  Chastanier.  His  intelligence  received 
a  sort  of  shock  that  stimulated  it,  and  urged  on  by  the 
power  of  divination,  as  it  were,  he  said: 

"It  was  M.  Donadei  who  sent  you,  was  it  not?" 

"  Yes  "  answered  the  beadle,  after  further  hesitation. 

"  Very  good  !  give  me  the  prayer-book.  I  will  hand  it 
to  Mademoiselle  Claire." 

"  But  the  abbe  particularly  told  me  I  was  to  give  it  to 
no  one  but  the  young  lady." 

"  She  shall  have  it  in  a  moment.  Perhaps  she  is  not  up 
yet:  you  will  be  disturbing  her." 

"You  promise  me  to  do  the  errand?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Tell  the  young  lady  that  the  abbe  found  this  prayer-book 
in  his  confessional  yesterday,  and  told  me  to  bring  it  to 
her.  The  abbe  sends  his  compliments  to  Mademoiselle." 

"  I  will  tell  her  all  that,  rest  assured." 

The  beadle  placed  the  prayer-book  on  the  table  and 
withdrew  after  making  a  bow.  But  in  closing  the  door 
he  hesitated  again  and  looked  distrustful. 

When  he  had  at  last  gone,  Marius  could  not  help  feeling 
surprised  at  his  persistence  in  wishing  to  sec  Mademoiselle 
Claire  himself.  He  vaguelv  remembered  the  praises 
Donadei  had  bestowed  on  M.  Martellv's  young  sister. 
He  looked  at  the  prayer-book  and  his  thoughts  were 
busy  with  all  kinds  of  reasonings  and  explanations. 

He  stretched  out  his  arm  and  took  the  prayer-book. 
He  drew  it  from  its  case.  It  was  one  of  those  bulky 
volumes,  almost  square,  with  a  handsome  binding  and 
corners  in  open  silver-work.  The  initials  of  the  young 
girl  were  interlaced  on  one  of  the  sides. 

As  Marius  contemplated  the  book  and  tinned  it  over 
in  his  hands,  he  perceived  a  thin  piece  of  paper  peeping 
out  from  the  gilt  edges.  Prompted  by  a  feeling  of  curi- 
osity which  he  did  not  seek  to  explain,  he  opened  the 
volume  and  a  sheet  of  paper,  folded  in  four,  slipped 
•out  of  it  before  him. 


208  THE  MYSTERIES   OF    MARSEILLES. 

It  was  a  pretty  sheet  of  pink  paper  exhaling  a  slight 
smell  of  incense.  Marius  was  about  to  return  it  to  the 
book,  but  as  he  took  it  up  he  saw  it  was  marked  with 
the  initial  D  and  a  cross  in  relief.  He  rapidly  unfolded 
it  and  read  as  follows: 

"Dear  Soul,  you  whose  salvation  has  been  entrusted  to 
me  by  the  Lord,  listen,  I  beg  of  you,  to  the  scheme  I 
have  formed  for  your  eternal  happiness.  I  have  never 
dared  explain  that  scheme  to  you,  verbally,  fearing  to 
give  way  to  the  adorable  emotions  that  your  righteousness 
creates  within  me. 

"  You  cannot  remain  any  longer  in  your  brother's 
house.  It  is  a  place  of  perdition ;  your  brother  is  devoted 
to  the  abominable  worship  of  modern  idols.  Come,  come 
with  me.  We  will  find  a  solitary  spot  where  I  will  place 
you  in  the  hands  of  the  Almighty. 

"  Perhaps  my  tears  and  trembling,  have  made  you 
penetrate  the  secret  of  my  heart.  I  love  you  as  the  Holy 
Church,  our  mother,  loves  the  pure  souls  that  come  to  her. 
I  dream  of  you  each  night,  I  see  you  entwined  in  a 
celestial  embrace,  and  we  both  rise  to  heaven  exchanging 
angelic  kisses. 

"  Ah !  do  not  resist  the  voice  that  is  calling  you.  Come. 
There  is  a  superior  religion  which  we  do  not  reveal  to 
the  vulgar.  That  religion  unites  creatures  together.  It 
makes  spouses,  not  martyrs. 

"  Bear  in  mind  our  conversations.  Say  to  yourself  that 
I  love  you,  and  come.  I  await  you  at  my  house.  I 
shall  have  a  post-chaise  in  an  adjoining  street." 

Marius  was  astounded  after  reading  this.  Abbe 
Donadei  actually  suggested  an  elopement  to  Mademoiselle 
Claire.  It  is  true  his  letter  was  pervaded  with  incense, 
with  rakish,  cloudy  mysticism,  which  hid  the  brutal  meaning 
of  his  thoughts  beneath  the  devout  and  fondling  sweetness 
of  words;  the  sense  was  paraphrased,  diluted  in  that 
odd  style  of  expression  which  some  Roman  Catholic 
priests  affect,  but  Abbe  Donadei  had  not  been  able 
to  find  a  religious  periphrasis  for  the  post-chaise,  and  his 
hypocritical  letter  ended  coarsely,  by  a  gendarme-like 
offer  which  no  one  could  misinterpret.  The  graceful  abbe, 


SAUVAIRE'S  MONEY'S  WORTH  OF  FUN.      209 

to  have  cast  aside  the  sly  prudence  that  guided  him  in 
all  his  acts,  must  have  been  carried  away  by  fierce  desire. 

The  clerk  read  and  re-read  the  letter,  asking  himself 
what  he  had  better  do.  He  felt  indignant,  his  anger  rose 
within  him.  But  one  anxiety  restrained  him.  He  was 
ignorant  as  to  the  harm  that  had  been  done,  he  did  not 
know  what  Mademoiselle  Claire  thought,  and  he  was  afraid 
lest  Donadei,  in  the  mysterious  seclusion  of  the  confessional, 
had  not  already  succeeded  in  troubling  the  young  girl's 
heart.  Before  striking  the  priest  he  wanted  to  be  sure 
that  he  would  not,  at  the  same  time,  strike  his  victim. 
For  nothing  in  the  world  would  he  have  run  the  risk  of 
creating  a  scandal  that  would  certainly  have  killed  M. 
Marteliy. 

He  resolved  that  if  the  abbe  were  to  be  the  only 
one  to  suffer,  to  punish  him  in  an  original  way.  He  took 
the  prayer-book  and  went  to  Mademoiselle  Claire  in  great 
alarm  lest  her  face  should  display  incriminating  emotion. 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

IN  WHICH  SAUVAIRT-:  MAKES  UP  HIS  MIXD  TO 
HAVE  HIS  MONEY'S  WORTH  OF  FUN. 

MADEMOISELLE  CLAIRE  MAKTKLLY  was  a  tall,  handsome  girl 
of  twenty-three,  whom  circumstances  had  thrown  into 
devotion.  She  was  to  have  married  one  of  her  cousins, 
who  was  accidentally  drowned  at  Endoume  during  a  pleasure 
trip.  Despair  had  brought  her  nearer  to  God,  and,  little 
by  little,  she  had  tasted  such  sweetness  in  frequenting 
churches  that  she  had  fallen  asleep,  as  it  were,  in  the 
penetrating  perfume  of  the  incense,  soothed  by  the  murmur- 
ing voices  of  the  priests. 

Hers  was  not  precisely  a  religious  mind,  it  was  a  gentle 
and  contemplative  one,  which  religion  had  consoled,  and 
which  was  grateful  on  that  account.  Perhaps,  one  of  these 
days,  there  might  be  an  awakening  and  she  would  return 
to  the  joys  of  the  world.  In  the  meanwhile  she  lived  a 
rather  retired,  calm  life,  and  her  tastes  were  simple.  Her 


210  THE   MYSTERIES    OF   MARSEILLES. 

brother,  who  was  a  free-thinker  and  a  Republican,  of  broad 
intellect  and  a  kindly  nature,  allowed  her  to  do  as 
she  pleased.  He  only  took  advantage  of  his  position  as 
head  of  the  family,  to  protect  her  interests  and  assure  her 
an  independent  position. 

Marius  found  Mademoiselle  Claire  in  a  small  drawing- 
room  where  she  generally  worked  at  baby-linen  which 
she  gave  away  to  the  poor.  The  young  girl  knew  Marius 
and  treated  him  affectionately,  as  a  friend  of  the  family. 
M.  Martelly  had  often  taken  his  clerk  with  him  to  an  estate 
he  owned  near  Estaque,  and  there  Marius  and  Claire  had 
become  good  friends.  Brave  hearts  find  each  other  out 
and  are  not  long  in  coming  to  an  understanding. 

The  beautiful  devout  on  seeing  the  clerk  enter,  jumped 
up  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"Ah!  It's  you,  Marius,"  she  exclaimed  gaily.  "  So  you're 
well  again.  So  much  the  better.  Heaven  has  granted 
my  prayer." 

The  young  man  felt  very  much  touched  at  this  friendly 
welcome.  He  gazed  in  the  young  girl's  eyes  and  found 
naught  there  but  a  pure  flame  and  a  look  of  calm  virgin- 
ity. That  look  appeared  to  him  so  tranquil  and  straight- 
forward, that  he  felt  as  if  relieved  of  a  lump  that  had 
been  choking  him. 

"I  thank  you,"  he  answered.  "But  I  have  not  come 
to  show  you  a  ghost." 

And  handing  her  the  prayer-book,  he  added : 

"Here  is  a  mass-book  which  it  appears  you  left  behind 
you  yesterday  at  Saint- Victor." 

"Ah!  yes,"  said  the  young  girl.  "I  was  going  to  send 
and  fetch  it.  How  did  it  come  into  your  hands?" 

"A  beadle  just  brought  it." 

"A  beadle!" 

"Yes,  from  Abbe  Donadei." 

Claire  took  the  book  and  placed  it  quietly  on  a  piece 
of  furniture  without  showing  the  least  concern.  Marius 
followed  her  anxiously  with  his  eyes.  If  the  slightest  colour 
had  risen  to  her  cheeks,  he  would  have  thought  all  lost. 

"By  the  way,"  continued  the  young  girl,  sitting  down, 
"I  think  you  know  M.  Chastanier." 


SAUVAIRE  S  MONEY'S  WORTH  OF  FUN.    2  I  I 

"Yes,"  answered  Marius  astonished. 

"He  is  an  excellent  man,  is  he  not?" 

"  Certainly,  he  has  a  good  heart  and  a  profoundly  pious 
and  upright  mind." 

"  My  brother  has  sung  his  praises  to  me  loudly ;  but  in 
religious  matters,  you  know,  I  do  not  place  unlimited 
confidence  in  my  brother." 

She  smiled.  Marius  could  not  understand  what  she 
was  coming  to;  only  he  found  her  so  quiet  and  happy 
that  he  felt  entirely  reassured. 

"I  see  Abbe  Chastanier  is  a  positive  saint,"  she 
continued,  "and  from  to-morrow  I  shall  entrust  him  with 
the  care  of  directing  my  conscience." 

"  Are  you  going  to  leave  Abbe  Donadei  ?"  exclaimed 
Marius,  warmly. 

The  young  girl  again  raised  her  head,  surprised  at  the 
clerk's  tone  of  voice. 

"Yes,  I  am  leaving  him,"  she  answered,  very  simply. 
"  He  is  young  and  has  the  light  mind  of  an  Italian. 
Besides,  I  have  learnt  ugly  things  about  him." 

She  continued  stitching  quietly  with  her  needle,  there 
was  not  a  tremor  in  her  hands  and  her  forehead  remained 
white  and  pure.  Then  Marius  withdrew,  convinced  that  he 
could  act  without  wounding  this  virgin  conscience,  and 
that  while  punishing  Donadei,  he  would  punish  him  only. 
He  did  not  know  the  real  cause  that  had  decided  Claire 
to  change  her  confessor;  perhaps  she  had  understood 
that  she  was  no  longer  in  safety  in  the  hands  of  the 
gallant  abbe;  but,  in  any  case,  there  had  been  no  actor 
word  at  which  she  had  cause  to  blush. 

Marius  had  preserved  the  soft  pink  paper  containing 
Donadei's  declaration.  He  could  have  simply  taken  it  to 
the  Bishop  of  Marseilles,  but  he  preferred  to  punish  and 
deride  the  abbe  himself,  in  return  for  his  having  impudently 
made  fun  of  him  when  he  had  sought  to  recommend 
Philippe  to  his  kindness.  His  plan  was  formed.  Only 
to  put  it  into  execution,  he  required  the  assistance  of 
Sauvaire. 

He  did  not  return  to  his  office  after  lunch,  but  went 
in  search  of  the  master-stevedore  in  all  the  cafes.  Sauvaire 


212  THE   MYSTERIES    OF  MARSEILLES. 

was  not  to  be  found.  He  then  made  up  his  mind  to  go 
and  ask  Cadet  Cougourdan  if  he  knew  where  his  principal 
was  in  hiding. 

"Oh!  He  is  not  hiding  himself,  that's  not  his  habit," 
answered  Cadet  laughing.  "  He  must  be  in  a  restaurant 
at  the  Reserve,  and  I'll  bet  he's  trying  to  show  himself 
to  all  Marseilles." 

Marius  went  down  to  the  Port  and  was  rowed  to  the 
Reserve  in  one  of  those  small  pleasure  boats  supplied 
with  a  spare  red-and-yellow  striped  awning.  The  boat 
glided  slowly  over  the  dense  water  of  the  harbour,  amidst 
refuse  of  all  sorts,  orange  peel,  vegetable  remains,  objects 
without  a  name  which  were  gathered  together  in  a  sort  of 
whitish  froth.  And  it  continued  on  its  way  in  the  middle 
of  a  passage  preserved  between  the  vessels,  skimming  along 
in  proximity  to  their  dark  sides.  It  was  as  if  lost  in  a 
forest  which  shot  up,  on  all  sides,  its  straight,  slender  stems, 
each  surmounted  by  a  shred  of  crimson  bunting. 

Before  Marius  had  landed  he  could  hear  the  noisy 
laughter  of  Sauvaire  seated  at  a  table  on  a  terrace  of  a 
restaurant.  He  could  not  be  seen,  but  he  arranged  matters 
so  as  to  make  known  he  was  there. 

The  restaurants  at  the  Reserve  resemble  those  at  Asnieres 
and  Saint  Cloud :  they  are  chalets,  pavilions,  all  kinds  of 
ugly  architectural  conceptions.  As  a  matter  of  fact  they 
are  built  of  plaster  and  planks,  and  the  blasts  of  wind 
threaten  to  blow  them  out  to  sea.  Sauvaire  delighted  in 
frequenting  these  restaurants  because  the  charges  there 
are  very  high,  and  one  can  be  seen  a  long  way  off. 

Marius,  guided  by  the  master-stevedore's  elevated  voice, 
found  him  at  once.  He  was  on  a  terrace  with  Clairori 
and  Isnarde  whom  he  no  longer  left :  he  was  convinced 
he  had  the  appearance  of  being  more  wealthy  when  dragging 
two  women  along  with  him,  one  on  each  arm.  The  terrace 
trembled  beneath  the  storm  of  Sauvaire 's  gaiety.  Moreover, 
the  worthy  man  was  getting  slightly  tipsy. 

"Bravo,  bravo!"  he  shouted,  perceiving  Marius,  "we  will 
begin  lunching  again.  We  have  been  lunching  since  noon. 
We  have  eaten  cockles,  bouillabaisse,  tunny — 

He    continued    and    enumerated    a   dozen   dishes   with 


SAUVAIRE'S  MONEY'S  WORTH  OF  FUN.      213 

childlike  pride.  He  felt  quite  flattered  at  having  given 
himself  indigestion. 

"  Heh  !  "  he  continued,  "  one  is  very  comfortable  here. 
It's  expensive,  but  everything  is  very  correct.  What  will 
you  have  to  eat?  " 

Marius  excused  himself,  pointing  out  that  it  was  three 
o'clock  and  that  he  had  lunched  long  before. 

"Go  along  with  you!  One  can  always  eat,"  exclaimed 
Sauvaire,  delighted  at  being  caught  at  such  a  rakish  pleasure 
party.  "  We  are  going  on  eating  like  this  until  evening. 
It'll  cost  money,  but  so  much  the  worse!  Clairon,  my 
girl,  you'll  get  drunk  if  you  take  so  much  champagne." 

Clairon  paid  no  attention  to  the  remark  and  swallowed 
another  large  glass.  Besides,  she  had  nothing  to  fear  as 
she  was  tipsy  already. 

"Good  heavens!  How  amusing  these  women  are!" 
continued  Sauvaire  rising  and  fanning  himself  with  his 
napkin. 

He  went  towards  the  balustrade  on  the  terrace  and 
shouted  out  very  loud,  so  as  to  be  heard  by  the  passers-by: 

"  I've  already  spent  a  great  deal  of  money  with  them, 
but  I  don't  regret  it,  they're  so  comical!" 

Marius  leant  over  towards  him. 

"Do  you  want  to  have  a  good  evening  to-morrow?" 
he  asked  him. 

"  Of  course,   I  do,"     answered  Sauvaire. 

"It  will  cost  you  a  few  louis." 

"The  deuce!     Will  it  be  very  funny?" 

"Very  funny  indeed.  You  shall  have  your  money's 
worth  of  laughter." 

"  I  accept  then." 

"  All  Marseilles  will  hear  of  the  affair,  and  they'll  be 
talking  of  you  for  a  week  afterwards. 

"  I  accept,   I  accept." 

"Very  well,   listen." 

Marius  bent  down  to  Sauvaire's  ear  and  spoke  to  him 
in  a  low  voice.  He  explained  his  plan.  An  instant  later 
the  master-stevedore  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter  that  almost 
choked  him.  He  thought  the  thing  funny,  very  funny. 

"That's   agreed,"    he    said,    when  Marius  had  told  him 


214  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

his  secret.  "I  will  be  on  the  Boulevard  de  la  Corderie 
with  Clairon  to-morrow  evening  at  ten  o'clock.  Ah !  What 
a  good  joke!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HOW  ABBE   DONADEI   ELOPED   WITH   THE 
SISTER   SOUL   TO   HIS   OWN. 

ABBE  DONADEI  had  allowed  himself  to  be  overcome  by 
one  of  those  violent  desires  which  sometimes  burst  out 
in  cunning,  sneaking  natures.  He  so  clever,  so  prudent, 
had  been  guilty  of  a  clumsy  mistake.  He  was  conscious 
of  it  when  the  beadle  had  left  with  the  prayei- 
book  and  love-letter.  From  that  moment  he  must  be 
prepared  to  meet  all  the  consequences  of  his  audacious 
act.  Claire  had  excited  a  yearning  in  him  which  he  meant 
to  satisfy  in  spite  of  all.  He  was  beyond  the  sacred 
scruples  of  his  calling.  He  looked  on  things  human 
from  too  lofty  a  height,  he  had  mixed  in  too  many  jobs 
of  a  more  or  less  honourable  nature,  to  hesitate  at  a  seduction. 
That  was  the  least  thing  that  troubled  him.  It  was  the 
sequel  to  the  seduction,  at  which  he  felt  alarmed. 

For  two  long  months  he  had  tried  to  attract  the  young 
girl  to  his  house.  Then,  as  she  was  about  to  accede  to  his 
wish  in  all  simplicity,  he  had  renounced  that  plan,  convinced 
that  an  intrigue  of  this  nature  could  not  be  carried  on  in 
the  midst  of  Marseilles.  It  was  thus  that  he  had  little 
by  little  reached  the  point  of  wishing  to  play  all  for  all, 
like  a  daring  gambler;  his  passion  was  increasing  and 
torturing  him  and  he  was  ready  to  exchange  his  influential 
position  for  a  woman's  free  and  entire  love:  he  preferred 
to  elope  with  Claire  openly,  and  fly  with  her  to  Italy. 

Donadei  was  too  sharp  and  intelligent  not  to  have 
thought  of  a  retreat.  If  the  young  girl  in  the  long  run 
had  been  in  his  way,  he  would  have  shut  her  up  in  a 
convent  and  obtained  the  forgiveness  of  his  uncle  the 
Cardinal.  When  he  had  examined  and  calculated  every- 
thing, an  elopement  seemed  to  him  the  most  easy  and  prompt 


HOW   ABBE   DOXADEI   ELOPED.  215 

of  all  plans  and  the  one  which  presented  the  least  danger. 

He  only  feared  one  thing:  that  Claire  would  not  keep 
the  appointment  and  would  refuse  to  run  away  with  him. 
Then,  the  love-letter  would  become  a  terrible  arm.  He 
would  be  without  the  girl  and  might  lose  his  position. 
But  he  was  blinded  by  desire,  he  did  not  notice  the  calm 
candour  of  his  penitent,  but  took  the  acts  of  adoration 
addressed  to  the  Almighty  for  so  many  mute  avowals  made 
to  himself. 

However,  he  had  still  fears,  and  regretted  having  ad- 
vanced too  far  to  be  able  to  retreat.  All  his  prudence 
and  cowardice  returned  to  him,  and  he  impatiently  awaited 
the  beadle's  return.  As  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  him 

O  O 

he  exclaimed : 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  I  gave  the  book,"  answered  the  beadle. 

"To  the  young  lady  herself?" 

"Yes,  to  the  voung  lady." 

The  beadle  made  this  answer  with  superb  self-possession. 
On  his  way  back  he  regretted  having  given  Marius  the 

J  O  O      O 

prayer-book,  and,  as  he  saw  that  he  had  performed  his 
errand  very  badly,  he  determined  to  lie  in  order  to  deserve 
the  abbe's  good  will. 

Donadei  felt  somewhat  reassured.  He  judged  that  if 
the  young  girl  felt  offended  at  the  note,  she  would  burn 
it.  Hazard,  forgetting  a  prayer-book,  had  hastened  a 
solution  that  he  had  been  seeking  so  long.  He  had  now 
only  to  wait. 

The  next  morning,  he  received  the  visit  of  a  veiled  lady 
whose  features  he  was  unable  to  distinguish.  This  person 
handed  him  a  letter  and  promptly  withdrew.  The  missive 
only  contained  these  words:  "Yes,  to-night!"  Donadei 
was  beside  himself  with  delight,  and  set  about  making  his 

O          '  O 

preparations  for  departure. 

If  anyone  had  followed  the  veiled  lady,  they  would 
have  seen  her  join  the  gallant  Sauvaire  who  was  awaiting 
her  in  the  Rue  du  Petit  Chanticr.  She  raised  her  veil:  it 
was  Clairon. 

"  He's  a  very  nice  fellow  that  abbe,"  she  said,  on 
reaching  the  master-stevedore. 


2l6  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  Does  he  please  you?  So  much  the  better!  "  answered 
Sauvaire.  And  they  went  off  bursting  with  laughter. 

At  about  half-past  nine  in  the  evening,  Clairon  and 
Sauvaire  were  again  in  the  Rue  du  Petit  Chantier.  They 
walked  slowly,  stopping  at  each  step  as  if  waiting  for 
someone.  Clairon,  who  was  dressed  simply  in  a  black 
woollen  gown,  had  her  face  hidden  beneath  a  thick  veil. 
Sauvaire  was  disguised  as  a  commissionaire. 

"Here's  Marius,"  the  latter  suddenly  exclaimed. 

"  Are  you  ready  ? "  inquired  the  young  man  in  an 
undertone,  as  soon  as  he  was  close  to  them.  "  Do  you 
know  your  parts  well  ?  " 

"  Of  course !  "  answered  the  master-stevedore.  "  You'll 
see  how  we  can  act.  Ah!  the  good  joke!  I  shall  be 
laughing  over  it  for  the  next  six  months." 

"  Go  on  to  the  abbe's,  we  will  wait  for  you  here.  Be 
prudent." 

Sauvaire  went  and  knocked  at  Donadei's  door.  It  was 
opened  by  the  abbe  himself  who  was  attired  in  a  travelling 
suit  and  seemed  very  excited. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  inquired  roughly,  disappointed 
at  seeing  a  man  before  him. 

"  I  have  come  with  a  young  lady, "  answered  the  sham 
commissionaire. 

"  Good,  let  her  come  in  quickly." 

"She  would  not  come  up  to  the  door." 

"  Ah ! " 

"She  said  like  this:  'Tell  the  gentleman  that  I  prefer 
going  straight  to  the  carriage.'  " 

"  Wait  a  minute.     I  have  something  to  take  with  me." 

"  Yes,  but  you  see  the  young  lady  is  afraid,  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  Boulevard." 

"  Then  run  quick  and  tell  her  that  the  post-chaise  is 
at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  des  Tyrans.  Let  her  get  in.  I 
shall  be  there  in  five  minutes." 

Donadei  banged  the  door  to,  and  Sauvaire  held  his 
sides  and  almost  split  with  silent  laughter.  This  adventure 
beat  everything  he  had  ever  heard  of. 

He  returned  to  the  Rue  du  Petit  Chantier,  where  Clairon 
and  Marius  were  awaiting  him. 


HOW  ABBE    DONADEI   ELOPED.  217 

"  Everything  is  proceeding  marvellously  well,"  he  said 
to  them  in  an  undertone,  "the  abbe  falls  into  the  trap 
with  angelic  innocence.  I  know  where  the  post-chaise  is." 

"I  noticed  it  coming  along,"  said  Marius,  "it  is  at  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  des  Tyrans." 

"  That's  it,  there  is  not  a  moment  to  spare,  the  abbe 
has  promised  to  be  there  in  five  minutes." 

All  three  set  off  along  the  Boulevard  de  la  Corderie, 
as  far  as  the  Rue  des  Tyrans,  skirting  the  houses.  There 
they  perceived  the  post-chaise  standing  in  the  shade,  all 
loaded  and  ready  to  start  at  the  first  crack  of  the  whip. 
Marius  and  Sauvaire  hid  themselves  under  the  archway 
of  a  great  door.  Clairon  stood  before  them  in  the  road. 

Sauvaire  and  Clairon  joked  in  a  low  voice  while  awaiting 
the  abbe. 

"Pooh!  He  will  not  care  for  me,"  said  Clairon.  "He 
will  cast  me  off  at  the  first  change  of  horses." 

"  Who  knows  ?  " 

"  He's  very  nice.     I  was  afraid  he  would  be  old." 

"  But,  I  say,  you  seem  in  love  witli  the  abbe.  Oh ! 
I'm  not  jealous.  Only  if  you're  going  off  so  willingly  with 
him,  you  might  return  me  the  thousand  francs  I  gave  you 
to  persuade  you  to  assist  us." 

"The  thousand  francs!  Oh!  indeed,  and  if  he  suddenly 
leaves  me,  must  not  I  pay  for  my  journey  back  ?  " 

"  I  was  joking,  my  dear,  I  don't  take  back  what  I 
have  given.  Besides,  I'm  having  my  money's  worth  of 
laughter." 

Marius  intervened,  repeating  his  instructions  to  Clairon. 

"Do  exactly  as  I  told  you,"  he  said.  "Try  to  arrange 
so  that  he  does  not  discover  the  trick  until  lie  is  some 
leagues  from  Marseilles.  Do  not  speak,  play  your  part 
with  art.  When  he  has  discovered  even-thing,  act  firmly, 
tell  him  I  have  his  note  and  am  determined  to  take 
it  to  the  bishop,  if  you  suffer  the  least  harm,  or  if  he 
shows  himself  again  here.  Advise  him  to  go  and  seek 
fortune  elsewhere." 

"Can  I  return  at  once  to  Marseilles?"  inquired  Clairon. 

"Certainly.  I  onlv  want  to  drive  him  from  the  city 
by  makincr  him  ridiculous  for  ever.  I  could  have  had  him 


2l8  THE    MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

expelled  from  the  church  by  his  superiors,  but  I  prefer 
annihilating  him  by  mockery." 

Sauvaire  was  splitting  with  laughter  at  the  thought  of 
the  scene  between  Abbe  Donadei  and  Clairon. 

"  Eh!  my  dear,"  he  continued,  "tell  him  you  are  married 
and  that  your  husband  will  no  doubt  be  seeking  you 
everywhere  to  prosecute  you  for  your  misconduct.  Shall  I 
run  after  you,  and  put  your  ravisher  in  a  horrible  fright?" 

The  idea  of  this  joke  so  amused  Sauvaire  that  he  very 
nearly  choked  with  hilarity.  In  the  meanwhile  Marius  had 
noticed  a  dark  form  advancing  rapidly  towards  them. 

"  Silence  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Here,  I  think,  is  our  man. 
Attend  to  your  part,  Clairon.  Place  yourself  in  front  of 
the  carriage  door." 

Sauvaire  and  Marius  secreted  themselves  more  closely 
in  their  hiding-place,  and  Clairon,  with  her  face  thickly 
veiled  and  dressed  all  in  black,  stood  in  the  shadow 
thrown  by  the  post-chaise.  It  was  Donadei,  quite  out 
of  breath.  He  had  thrown  off  the  cowl  and  looked  very 
smart  in  ordinary  mufti. 

"Dear,  dear  Claire,"  he  murmured  with  emotion,  kissing 
Clairon's  hand,  "how  good  of  you  to  have  come!" 

"  Claire,  Clairon,"  muttered  Sauvaire,  "  it's  all  the  same." 

"Ah!  Providence  must  have  advised  you,"  continued 
the  priest,  pushing  the  girl  gently  into  the  carriage  and 
then  following  her.  "  We  are  off  to  Paradise,"  he  added. 

The  postillion  cracked  his  whip  and  the  post-chaise 
started  away  with  a  frightful  rumbling  noise.  Sauvaire 
and  Marius  then  showed  themselves,  laughing  until  they 
almost  cried. 

"  Eh !  the  abbe  is  eloping  with  the  sister  soul  to  his 
own,"  said  Marius. 

"  A  pleasant  journey,  abbe,"  cried  Sauvaire. 

When  the  chaise  had  disappeared  in  the  night,  bearing 
away  Donadei  and  Clairon,  the  master-stevedore  and 
young  clerk  sauntered  down  the  Boulevard  de  la  Corderie, 
chatting  about  the  adventure  and  giving  way  to  sudden 
displays  of  gaiety,  at  the  thought  of  the  priest  travelling 
alone  with  this  creature. 

"Can   you   fancy  the   face   he'll  make   presently,"  said 


HOW  ABBE   DONADEI   ELOPED.  219 

Sauvaire,  "  when  he  raises  Clairon's  veil  ?  Between  you 
and  me  and  the  lamp-post,  you  know,  Clairon  is  ugly. 
She  is  at  least  forty." 

The  master-stevedore  willingly  acknowledged  Clairon's 
age  and  ugliness,  since  the  girl's  forty  summers  and  faded 
countenance  made  the  joke  he  was  playing  the  more 
amusing. 

He  was  splitting  with  laughter  and  anxious  to  reach 
the  Cannebiere  to  tell  his  friends  the  story.  Marius, 
who  was  more  serious,  was  thinking  he  had  given  the 
priest  the  company  he  deserved.  He  left  the  master- 
stevedore  at  about  eleven  o'clock  at  night  and  went  home. 

At  midnight  everyone  at  Marseilles  who  had  not  then 
retired  to  rest,  knew  that  Abbe  Donadei  had  just  eloped 
in  a  post-chaise,  with  a  girl  who  had  been  wallowing  in  all 
the  debauchery  of  the  city  for  the  previous  fifteen  years. 
Sauvaire  had  been  shouting  out  the  news  in  the  cafes,  and 
had  related  the  adventure  with  a  wonderful  profusion  of 
detail.  That  precious  phrase  of  the  graceful  abbe  as  he 
got  into  the  chaise:  "  We're  off  to  Paradise!"  was  repeated 
from  mouth  to  mouth.  They  knew  he  had  kissed  her 
hand;  and  they  speculated  as  to  the  reason  why  the 
amorous  couple  had  lied. 

The  best  part  of  the  business  was  that  Sauvaire,  not 
knowing  why  Marius  had  had  Clairon  carried  off,  displayed 
absolute  naivete.  He  understood  that  if  Donadei's  passion 
for  her  could  be  made  to  appear  serious,  the  joke  would 
be  all  the  more  funnv,  and  he  therefore  lied  with  all  the 
assurance  of  an  inhabitant  of  the  south  of  Fr;mce;  he 
made  believe  that  the  priest  was  really  dving  of  love  for 
this  wrinkled,  sallow-faced  creature,  worn-out  with  shame, 
who  was  known  to  cvervonc. 

There  was  general  astonishment,  universal  mockery; 
people  could  not  believe  that  the  gallant  abbe,  with  whom 
the  penitent  ladies  of  Marseilles  were  so  charmed,  had  run 
away  with  such  a  woman,  and  thcv  jeered  to  their  heart's 
content  at  the  monstrous  alliance. 

Next  day  the  scandal  was  known  to  the  whole  city. 
Sauvaire  triumphed  and  became  a  personage.  They  knew 
he  had  been  Clairon's  last  protector,  and  that  the  abbe 


220  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

had  stolen  the  girl  away  from  him.  All  day  he  sauntered 
up  and  down  the  Cannebiere  in  slippers,  comically 
receiving  the  condolences  of  his  intimate  acquaintances. 
He  shouted  out  very  loud,  answering  some,  calling  to  others, 
using  and  abusing  of  his  popularity.  He  certainly  did 
not  regret  his  thousand  francs:  he  had  never  put  out 
money  for  his  amusement  at  so  high  a  rate  of  interest. 

The  scandal  became  awful  when  Clairon  returned  two 
days  later.  Sauvaire  bought  her  a  silk  gown  and  drove 
about  Marseilles  with  her  for  a  week,  in  an  open  carriage. 
People  pointed  them  out,  and  ran  to  their  doors  as  they 
passed  by.  The  master-stevedore  almost  burst  with  delight. 

Clairon  had  gone  as  far  as  Toulon.  Abbe  Donadei 
had  not  been  long  in  discovering  the  kind  of  person  he 
was  eloping  with :  he  had  then  flown  into  a  frightful  rage, 
and  wanted  to  throw  her  out  on  the  highway  at  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  far  from  any  dwelling.  But  Clairon 
was  not  to  be  so  easily  got  rid  of.  She  had  talked  big 
and  threatened  the  abbe,  making  use  of  the  arms  Marius 
held  in  his  hands.  Donadei  trembling  and  compelled  to 
give  way,  had  been  obliged  to  conduct  his  companion  as 
far  as  Toulon,  where  they  separated,  Clairon  returning  to 
Marseilles,  and  the  priest  hurrying  across  the  frontier. 

Sauvaire  drove  the  young  person  so  much  about  and 
raised  such  an  outcry,  that  the  authorities  took  the  matter 
in  hand,  and  at  the  Bishop's  request  sent  Clairon  to 
exercise  the  power  of  her  charms  elsewhere.  Since  then 
the  master-stevedore  in  his  effusive  moments,  which  occurred 
ten  or  twelve  times  a  day,  was  in  the  habit  of  saying  to 
all  who  liked  to  listen  to  him :  "  Ah  !  if  you  only  knew 
what  a  pretty  person  I  had  under  my  protection !  It  was 
the  priests  who  took  her  away  from  me!" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
PHILIPPE'S  RANSOM. 

MARIUS  went  to  his  office,  on  the  day  following  the  elope- 
ment, delighted  with  his  expedition  of  the  previous  evening. 


PHILIPPE'S  RANSOM.  221 

He  had  just  saved  an  honourable  family  from  despair, 
and  had  delivered  the  city  of  an  intriguing  man,  against 
whom  he  had,  moreover,  a  personal  grievance.  He  was 
about  to  set  to  work  with  a  light  heart  and  tranquil 
conscience,  when  they  came  and  told  him  that  M.  Martelly 
would  be  pleased  to  sec  him. 

On  his  way  to  the  drawing-room  the  young  man  suddenly 
made  up  his  mind  to  ask  his  principal  to  lend  him  the 
money  for  Philippe's  ransom.  This  decision  set  him  all 
of  a  tremble.  He  felt  he  would  never  dare  make  such  a 
request  if  he  did  not  do  so  by  a  sort  of  impulse.  As  he 
had  to  see  M.  Martelly  it  would  be  useless  to  wait  any 
longer,  it  would  be  better  to  risk  the  application  at  once. 

He  found  M.  Martelly  and  Abbe  Chastanier  in  the 
drawing-room.  The  ship-owner  was  pale  and  his  eyes 
were  sparkling  with  anger.  He  came  straight  to  the  clerk 
and  speaking  rapidly,  said  to  him : 

"You  are  a  straightforward  and  courageous  young  man, 
and  I  thought  I  would  not  act  in  such  a  serious  matter 
as  this  without  asking  your  advice." 

Abbe  Chastanier  appeared  sad  and  ashamed.  He  made 
himself  quite  small  in  an  armchair,  his  poor  hands 
trembling  with  age  and  grief. 

"I  have  just  had  this  gentleman's  visit,"  continued  M. 
Martelly  to  Marius,  pointing  out  the  old  priest,  "and  have 
received  information  of  a  plot  that  has  quite  upset  me." 

"Be  calm  for  mercy's  sake,"  interrupted  the  priest,  "do 
not  make  me  repent  having  done  my  duty  as  an  upright 
man,  in  coming  to  set  you  on  your  guard.  I  mav  have 
been  unnecessarily  alarmed." 

"You  would  not  be  here,  sir,  if  vour  suspicions  were 
not  based  on  certitude.  I  thank  you  for  your  visit;  I 
understand  the  feelings  of  dignitv  that  have  brought  you 
to  my  house,  and  I  even  understand  the  final  effort  you 
arc  making  to  protect  the  infamous 

The  ship-owner  turned  to  Marius  and  continued  in  a 
bitter  tone : 

"Only  fancy,  a  priest  is  trying,  at  this  moment,  to  dis- 
honour me.  This  gentleman  has  just  told  me  to  watch 
over  Claire.  He  has  informed  me  with  manv  omissions 


222  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

that  Abbe  Donadei  exercises  a  dangerous  influence  over 
her  and  that  he  fears — Ah!  if  that  wretch  has  tarnished 
the  child's  purity,  I'll  kill  him  like  a  dog!  " 

Abbe  Chastanier  hung  his  head.  He  did  not  regret  the 
steps  he  had  taken,  he  had  acted  as  an  upright  man ;  but 
he  was  quite  overcome  at  M.  Martelly's  explosion  of  anger. 
He  suffered  as  much  as  if  he  had  been  guilty  himself:  he 
felt  ashamed  for  the  entire  Church. 

The  ship-owner  became  a  little  more  calm,  and  after  a 
few  moments'  silence  continued: 

"  I  did  not  want  to  come  to  a  decision  before  consulting 
a  quiet  and  intelligent  man,  and  I  sent  for  you,  Marius. 
My  first  impulse  was  to  run  to  this  priest  and  smack  him 
in  the  face.  There  is  perhaps  another  course  to  pursue 
that  would  be  better." 

Marius  had  listened  quietly  to  his  principal  and  this 
somewhat  tranquillized  Abbe  Chastanier.  The  young  man 
who  had  his  answer  all  ready,  was  not  thinking  of  Donadei ; 
he  was  wondering  how  he  could  solicit  a  loan.  At  that 
moment  he  heard  M.  Martelly  say  to  him  in  a  loud  voice: 

"Come,  in  my  place,  what  would  you  do?" 

The  young  man  smiled : 

"I  would  do  what  I  have  already  done/'  he  answered 
simply,  and  he  gave  an  account  of  Clairon's  elopement. 
From  the  first  words,  as  soon  as  the  young  man  had 
spoken  of  the  interview  he  had  had  with  Claire  about  the 
prayer-book,  M.  Martelly  pressed  his  hands  effusively.  The 
certitude  that  his  sister  had  not  dreamt  of  the  peril  through 
which  she  had  passed  gave  him  great  joy.  He  became 
quite  gay  when  he  had  heard  the  whole  account  of  the 
adventure,  and  even  Abbe  Chastanier  could  not  restrain 
a  sad  smile. 

"  I  should  not  have  confessed  to  you,"  concluded  Marius, 
"  the  part  I  had  taken  in  this  mystification  if  you  had 
remained  in  ignorance  of  the  danger  threatening  you.  I 
merely  wished  to  reassure  you." 

"  Do  not  try  to  escape  my  gratitude,"  exclaimed  the 
ship-owner.  "  I  already  looked  on  you  as  an  adopted  son, 
and  you  have  just  rendered  me  so  great  a  service  that  I 
really  do  not  know  how  to  recompense  you." 


PHILIPPE'S  RANSOM.  223 

Speaking  thus  he  took  Marius  aside  and  then  gave  him 
a  kind  and  encouraging  look  in  the  face. 

"  Have  you  no  secret  to  tell  me  ? "  he  inquired  in  an 
undertone. 

Marius  became  troubled. 

"  You  are  a  great  child,"  continued  M.  Martelly.  "  Fortun- 
ately I  saw  Mademoiselle  Fine  during  your  illness;  otherwise 
I  should  still  be  in  ignorance.  Wait,  I'll  sign  you  a  draft 
for  fifteen  thousand  francs  which  you  can  encash,  at  once, 
in  the  counting-house  if  you  wish." 

Marius  on  hearing  the  ship-owner's  generous  offer  was 
spell-bound  to  the  spot.  He  turned  pale  and  inexpressible 
emotion  filled  his  eyes  with  great  tears.  He  felt  like 
choking  and  was  afraid  of  bursting  out  into  sobs. 

Eh!  What!  He  was  suddenly  offered  this  money 
which  he  had  been  seeking  for  in  despair  for  so  many 
months!  He  had  asked  for  nothing  and  his  dearest  wishes 
were  satisfied !  He  thought  he  must  be  dreaming. 

O  o 

M.  Martelly  had  gone  towards  a  table.  He  sat  down 
and  was  preparing  to  write  out  an  order  on  his  firm.  But 
before  doing  so  he  raised  his  head  and  simply  said  to 
Marius : 

"  It's  fifteen  thousand  francs  that  you  require,  is  it  not  ?  " 

This  question  drew  the  young  man  from  his  stupor. 
He  joined  his  hands  and  said  in  a  trembling  voice: 

"How  is  it  you  know  my  secret  thoughts  ?  What  have 
I  done  that  you  should  be  so  good  and  generous?" 

The  ship-owner  smiled: 

"I  will  not  say  to  you,  as  they  do  to  children,  that  my 
little  finger  has  told  me  all,  but,  in  truth  I  received  the 
visit  of  a  fairy.  Have  I  not  already  confessed  it  to  you  ? 
Mademoiselle  Fine  came  to  see  me." 

The  young  man  at  last  understood.  He  thanked  warmly, 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  the  good  angel  who,  while 
saving  him  from  death,  had  worked  to  bring  him  tranquillity 
and  hope.  He  now  understood  the  llowor-giiTs  placid, 
smiling  countenance,  when  he  had  spoken  to  her  of 
Philippe.  She  was  certain  of  the  prisoner's  safety,  she  had 
accomplished  all  alone,  the  whole  of  the  hard  work  connected 
with  raisin"-  a  loan.  Marius  hardlv  knew  if  he  oueht  to 


224  THE    MYSTERIES     OF   MARSEILLES. 

throw  himself  at  M.  Martelly's  feet  or  at  Fine's.  He  was 
overcome  with  gratitude. 

The  ship-owner  was  delighted  to  see  his  clerk's  coun- 
tenance lit  up  with  joy.  His  eyes  met  those  of  Abbe 
Chastanier  who  had  remained  seated  and  the  two  men 
understood  each  other:  the  free-thinker,  the  republican, 
as  well  as  the  priest,  experienced  the  joy  of  doing  good, 
the  delicious  sensation  of  making  another  happy,  and  of 
being  present  to  see  that  happiness. 

"But,"  exclaimed  Marius,  amidst  his  delight,  "I  do 
not  know  when  I  shall  be  able  to  refund  you  so  large  a 
sum." 

"  Do  not  let  that  trouble  you,"  answered  the  ship-owner. 
"You  have  rendered  me  great  services,  you  have,  perhaps, 
just  saved  me  from  dishonour.  Allow  me  to  oblige  you 
without  it  being  a  question  of  refunding  between  us." 

And  as  a  sort  of  gloom  passed  across  Marius'  forehead, 
he  took  his  hand  and  added : 

"I  do  not  mean  to  pay  you  for  your  devotedness,  my 
friend.  I  know  there  are  some  debts  that  cannot  be 
settled  with  money.  I  beg  you  to  look  at  the  matter  in 
a  different  light:  you  have  been  with  me  for  the  last  ten 
years,  and  I  trust  you  will  remain  much  longer;  well!  the 
fifteen  thousand  francs  I  am  about  to  give  you  are  a 
gratuity,  a  small  share  in  the  profits  I  have  made  with 
your  help.  You  cannot  refuse." 

M.  Martelly  bent  forward  to  sign  the  order  when  Marius 
stopped  him  again. 

"  Do  you  know  the  use  I  am  going  to  make  of  this 
money  ?  "  he  inquired,  with  some  concern. 

The  ship-owner  laid  down  his  pen,  annoyed  and  rather 
pale. 

"Good  heavens!"  he  exclaimed,  "how  difficult  it  is  to 
oblige  straightforward  people !  They  compel  you  to  know 
everything.  But  for  mercy's  sake  do  not  make  me  your 
accomplice.  I  am  aware  you  are  a  good  fellow,  a  devoted 
and  affectionate  soul.  That  is  all.  I  have  no  need  to 
know  about  all  your  acts  and  all  your  thoughts.  You  will 
never  do  a  bad  action,  will  you?  That's  quite  enough 
for  me." 


PHILIPPE'S   RANSOM.  225 

M.  Martelly  obedient  to  a  scruple  which  was  quite 
reasonable,  wished  to  appear  ignorant  that  the  money  he 
was  giving  Marius  was  going  to  purchase  a  conscience. 
But  apart  from  that,  he  lent  a  willing  hand  to  Philippe's 
escape,  being  aware  of  the  arms  M.  de  Cazalis  had  made 
use  of  to  imprison  the  young  man.  However,  in  principle, 
he  wished  to  preserve  his  republican  austerity  intact,  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  not  openly  be  an 
accomplice  of  the  escape. 

Marius  insisted.  Then  Abbe  Chastanier  intervened  with 
that  blind  sentiment  of  charity,  that  always  made  him 
accept  the  heaviest  responsibilities. 

"Do  not  refuse,"  he  said  to  the  young  man.  "I  know 
your  plans  and  I  will  be  your  guarantor  with  M.  Martelly 
that  what  you  want  to  do  is  right  and  legitimate." 

He  smiled,  with  his  meek  smile  of  an  old  man.  Marius 
understood  what  supreme  charity  had  dictated  his  words 
and  warmly  shook  his  hands.  In  the  meantime  the  ship- 
owner had  signed  the  draft  for  fifteen  thousand  francs. 

"There,"  he  said,  handing  Marius  the  paper.  "I 
advise  you  to  go  to  the  counting-house  at  once." 

And  as  the  young  man,  after  thanking  him  again,  was 
about  to  withdraw,  he  called  him  back : 

"Look  here,"  he  added,  "you  must  still  be  a  little  out 
of  sorts.  Take  a  week's  holiday.  You  will  work  all  the 
better  afterwards." 

He  wished  to  give  him  time  to  deliver  Philippe.  Marius 
understood  it,  and  was  again  moved  to  tears.  He  hastened 
away  so  as  not  to  cry  like  a  child,  and  repaired  at  once 
to  the  counting-house.  When  he  had  the  fifteen  thousand 
francs  in  his  pocket,  he  went  downstairs  in  four  jumps, 
then  he  ran  along  the  street  like  a  madman  to  find  Fine. 

The  flower-girl  was  just  then  in  her  little  room  on  the 
Place  aux  CEufs.  Marius  burst  in  on  her  laughing  and 
dancing  like  a  lunatic,  took  the  young  girl  in  his  arms 
and  gave  her  a  spanking  kiss  on  each  check.  Then  he 
spread  the  fifteen  banknotes  out  on  the  table.  Fine,  who 
was  astonished  and  almost  frightened  at  his  sudden  entrance, 
now  began  to  laugh  and  clap  her  hands. 

A  charming  scene  full  of  mutual  tenderness  and  effusive 

15 


226  THE    MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

thanks  followed.  Marius  vowed  he  was  a  simpleton  and 
that  she  alone  had  saved  the  ship.  He  kissed  her  hands, 
fell  on  his  knees  before  her  and  gazed  up  at  her  face 
with  a  troubled  expression  of  ecstasy.  She  on  her  side 
blushed,  protested  warmly  and  sought  to  prove  that  she 
did  not  deserve  the  least  acknowledgment. 

For  six  months  they  had  given  themselves  up  entirely 
to  a  difficult  task,  and  had  knocked  in  vain  at  every  door. 
And,  now,  all  of  a  sudden,  Philippe's  ransom  was  spread 
out  before  their  eyes.  Naturally  they  forgot  all  their 
anxiety  and  fear,  all  the  shame  and  stupidity  with  which 
they  had  momentarily  come  in  contact.  There  was  nothing 
in  their  hearts,  at  present,  but  tranquillity  and  intense  joy. 

Before  separating  they  arranged  that  they  would  leave 
for  Aix  the  following  morning. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
THE    ESCAPE. 

THE  next  morning,  at  about  seven  o'clock,  Marius  hired 
a  cabriolet.  He  did  not  wish  to  go  by  the  diligence,  and 
as  he  needed  a  vehicle  for  the  flight  he  preferred  to  hire 
one  at  Marseilles  which  would  take  him  to  Aix,  and  serve 
to  bring  back  his  brother.  On  the  previous  evening  he 
had  made  an  arrangement  with  a  sea  captain  to  convey 
Philippe  to  Genoa. 

Marius  and  Fine  set  out  at  nine  o'clock,  the  young  man 
driving.  It  was  quite  a  pleasure  party  for  the  two  lovers. 
At  the  hill  of  La  Viste,  they  got  down  and  ran  along  the 
road  like  children,  letting  the  horse  come  on  at  his  own 
pace.  They  breakfasted  in  a  small  room  at  an  auberge 
at  Septemes,  and  at  dessert  sketched  out  a  multitude  of 
plans  for  the  future.  Now  that  Philippe  was  about  to  be 
set  at  liberty  they  could  think  of  their  marriage,  and  were 
quite  affected  as  they  saw  the  time  approaching  when  they 
would  be  able  to  love  in  peace. 

The  remainder  of  the  journey  was  also  very  gay.  To- 
wards noon  they  passed  beside  the  Albertas  property,  and 


THE   ESCAPE.  227 

stopped  again,  to  give  the  horse  breath  and  take  rest 
themselves,  beneath  the  trees  on  the  right  hand  side  of 
the  road,  reaching  Aix  at  three  o'clock.  Notwithstanding 
all  the  delay,  they  still  arrived  too  soon.  So  as  not  to 
arouse  suspicion  they  had  decided  not  to  go  to  the  prison 
until  the  evening.  In  the  meantime  the  young  man  left 
the  cabriolet  in  care  of  his  companion  in  a  deserted  street, 
and  proceeded  to  the  house  of  his  relative  Isnard,  who 
placed  horse  and  trap  in  safety,  promising  to  bring  them 
at  midnight  precisely  to  the  summit  of  the  hill  of  Arc. 
When  these  precautions  had  been  taken  the  two  young 
people  hid  themselves  until  dark. 

As  Marius  and  Fine  were  returning  to  Isnard's  shop, 
the  former,  at  the  turn  of  a  street,  almost  fell  into  the 
arms  of  M.  de  Cazalis,  but  he  walked  on  rapidly  with 
his  head  bent  down,  and  the  deputy  did  not  notice  him; 
nevertheless  the  young  man  was  in  despair  at  this  meeting. 
He  felt  extremely  anxious,  fearing  that  some  new  misfortune 
might  happen  at  the  eleventh  hour,  to  prevent  him  bringing 
his  task  to  a  happy  issue.  M.  de  Cazalis  had  no  doubt 
•come  to  Aix  to  hasten  his  veng'eance,  he  thought,  and 
had  perhaps  succeeded. 

Marius  was  in  a  fever  until  the  evening,  and  the  most 
strange  ideas  passed  through  his  mind.  Now  that  he  had 
the  money,  he  dreaded  meeting  with  other  obstacles.  At 
last,  at  nine  o'clock,  he  went  to  the  gaol  accompanied  by 
Fine.  The  two  young  people  knocked  at  the  massive  door. 
A  heavy  step  was  heard  and  a  harsh  voice  inquired  what 
•they  wanted. 

"It   is   us,   uncle,"  exclaimed  Fine.     "Open  the  door." 
"Open   quick,    Monsieur  Revertegat,"  added  Marius  in 
his  turn. 

The  voice  grumbled  and  answered  in  a  surly  tone : 
"  M.  Revertegat  is  no  longer  here,  he  is  ill." 
The  wicket  was  shut,  and  Marius  and  Fine  stood  mute 
and  bewildered  at  the  closed  door. 

The  flower-girl  had  not  thought  it  necessary  to  write  to 
her  uncle  for  four  months.  She  had  his  promise  and  that 
sufficed.  So  the  news  of  his  illness  fell  on  her  and  her 
•companion  like  a  thunderbolt.  It  had  never  struck  them 


228  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

that  the  old  fellow  might  be  ill.  And  now  all  their  efforts 
were  paralysed  by  an  unforeseen  impediment.  They  had 
Philippe's  ransom  and  were  unable  to  deliver  him.  When 
they  had  in  a  measure  recovered  from  their  painful 
astonishment,  Fine  drew  herself  up. 

"Let  us  go  and  see  my  uncle,"  she  exclaimed,  "he 
must  be  with  one  of  his  cousins  in  the  Rue  de  la  Glaciere." 

"What's  the  use?"  answered  Marius,  "all  is  lost." 

"  No,  no,  come  along." 

He  followed  her  as  if  bowed  down  by  despair,  while  she 
stepped  out  boldly,  unable  to  believe  that  chance  could 
possibly  be  so  cruel. 

Revertegat  was,  in  fact,  at  his  cousins'  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Glaciere.  He  had  been  laid  up  there  for  a  fortnight. 
When  he  saw  the  young  people  enter,  he  understood  their 
errand.  He  raised  himself  up,  kissed  his  niece  on  the 
forehead,  and  said  to  her  with  a  smile : 

"  Well !  the  hour  has  come  then  ?  " 

"We  have  been  to  the  prison,"  answered  the  young 
girl,  "and  they  told  us^  you  were  ill." 

"  Good  heavens !  why  did  you  not  warn  us  ?  "  exclaimed 
Marius  sorrowfully,  "  we  would  have  been  more  expeditious."' 

"Yes,"  continued  the  flower-girl,  "now  you  are  no 
longer  gaoler,  what  are  we  going  to  do  ?  " 

Revertegat  looked  at  them  and  seemed  surprised  at  their 
despondency. 

"  Why  are  you  in  such  despair  ?  "  he  inquired  at  last. 
"I  am  rather  unwell,  it  is  true;  I  asked  for  a  holiday, 
but  I  still  hold  my  post;  I  shall  be  at  your  orders  to- 
morrow evening,  if  you  like." 

Marius  and  Fine  uttered  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

"The  man  who  answered  you,"  continued  Revertegat, 
"  is  taking  my  place  for  a  few  days.  To-morrow  morning 
I  shall  go  and  resume  my  duties;  I  have  now  only  a 
little  fever,  and  can  go  out  without  danger.  Besides,  the 
matter  is  urgent." 

"  I  knew  there  was  no  occasion  for  despair !  "  exclaimed 
the  flower-girl  triumphantly. 

Marius  was  trembling  with  emotion. 

"You  did   quite   right   to   come   and   see    me   to-day," 


THE    ESCAPE.  2 29 

continued  the  gaoler  after  a  short  silence.  "  I  heard  this 
morning  that  M.  de  Cazalis  was  at  Aix,  and  was  doing 
all  he  could  to  hasten  on  the  performance  of  the  sentence. 
They  tell  me  he  has  succeeded  in  having  it  fixed  for  three 
days  hence.  If  M.  Philippe  should  not  get  away  to-morrow 
night,  I  shall  no  longer  be  able  to  be  of  use  to  you,  for 
after  to-morrow  the  prisoner  will  be  transferred  to  the  gaol 
at  Marseilles." 

Marius  shuddered.  He  had  come  just  in  time.  He 
arranged  with  the  gaoler  and  made  an  appointment  for 
the  next  evening.  He  then  ran  and  told  Isnard  that  the 
•escape  was  delayed  for  twenty-four  hours. 

On  the  morrow,  the  two  young  people  remained  hidden 
all  day,  and  having  a  certitude,  they  were  more  calm. 
The  escape  was  to  be  made  at  eleven  o'clock.  Towards 
ten,  they  repaired  to  the  prison.  Revertegat,  who  was  at 
his  post,  gently  opened  the  door  and  introduced  them 
into  the  gaol. 

"All  is  ready,"  he  said. 

"  Is  my  brother  prepared  ? "  inquired  Marius. 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  had  to  take  some  precautions.  To 
-save  my  responsibility  as  much  as  possible,  I  wish  the 
prisoner  to  appear  to  have  fled  by  the  window  of  his 
cell." 

"That's   a  capital  idea,  uncle,"  Fine  interrupted,  gaily. 

"This  is  what  I've  done,"  continued  Revertegat.  "This 
afternoon  I  filed  through  one  of  the  bars  at  M.  Philippe's 
window,  myself." 

"  But  is  it  necessary  for  my  brother  to  go  through  the 
window?"  asked  Marius,  anxiously. 

"Not  in  the  least;  we  shall  fetch  him  now,  and  he'll 
walk  out  with  us  by  the  door.  Only  I  shall  remove  the 
one  bar  and  fasten  a  piece  of  cord  to  the  others.  To- 
morrow they  will  suppose  he  escaped  that  way.  I  shall 
all  the  same  send  in  my  resignation,  but  by  following  this 
plan  I  shall  avoid  great  annoyance." 

Revertegat  lit  a  dark  lantern  and  the  three  proceeded 
towards  Philippe's  cell.  They  found  him  up  and  ready 
to  leave,  but  he  was  so  pale  and  emaciated  that  Marius 
hesitated  to  recognise  him.  They  greeted  each  other  in 


230  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

silence,  refraining  from  speaking,  so  as  not  to  make  a 
noise.  The  gaoler  went  to  the  window,  wrenched  out  the 
iron  bar  and  fastened  the  cord.  Fine  had  remained  in 
the  passage  on  the  watch,  and  all  four  then  returned  down 
the  narrow  corridors,  gliding  slowly  along  the  walls  in  fear 
of  knocking  up  against  each  other  in  the.  dark. 

Marius  had  not  let  go  of  Philippe's  hand.  As  soon  as 
they  had  attained  the  gaoler's  lodge  he  threw  a  cloak 
over  him,  hid  his  head  in  the  hood,  and  wanted  to  get 
away  at  once.  Now  that  he  had  almost  reached  the  end 
of  his  trouble,  he  dreaded  failure.  He  started  at  the  least 
sound.  Revertegat  who  feared  that  the  noise  they  had 
made  coming  along  the  passages,  might  have  given  the 
alarm,  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  keeping  him  quiet  for 
a  few  minutes ;  being  determined  not  to  open  the  gate 
until  he  was  sure  that  all  was  well.  When  he  had  as- 
certained that  absolute  silence  reigned  in  the  prison,  he 
decided  to  draw  back  the  bolts. 

The  two  brothers  with  heads  bent  down,  hurried  off 
towards  the  Place  des  Precheurs,  Fine  remaining  behind 
for  a  moment,  to  give  her  uncle  the  fifteen  thousand  francs. 
She  rejoined  her  companions  just  as  they  were  entering 
the  little  Rue  Saint  Jean. 

They  then  took  the  Cours,  walking  in  the  dark  shadow 
of  the  trees.  They  had  now  only  one  fear:  they  must 
quit  the  town,  then  closed  with  gates,  which  the  keepers- 
were  required  to  open  to  be-lated  travellers;  and  they 
were  in  dread  of  being  stopped  there  miserably. 

They  continued  walking,  glancing  around  them,  dis- 
trustful of  the  few  people  they  happened  to  meet.  On 
reaching  the  Rue  des  Carmes  they  perceived  a  man  who 
began  following  them.  Their  hearts  were  beating  fit  to 
break.  Suddenly  this  person  hurried  forward,  and  came 
and  tapped  Marius  merrily  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Eh  !  I'm  not  mistaken,"  he  said,  "  it's  you,  my  young 
friend.  What  on  earth  are  you  doing  at  this  time  of  night 
on  the  Cours  ?  " 

Marius,  in  silent  anger,  was  already  clenching  his  fists, 
when  he  recognised  the  voice  of  M.  de  Girousse. 

"As  you  see,  I'm  taking  a  walk,"  he  stammered. 


THE   ESCAPE.  231 

"Ah!  You're  taking  a  walk,"  continued  the  count  in  a 
bantering  tone. 

He  looked  at  Fine  and  particularly  at  Philippe  wrapped 
up  in  his  cloak. 

"That's  a  form  I  know,"  he  murmured. 

And  he  added  with  his  friendly  abruptness  of  manner : 

"  Shall  I  accompany  you  ?  You  wish  to  leave  Aix,  do 
you  not  ?  They  don't  open  the  gate  to  everyone.  I  know 
a  keeper.  Come  on." 

Marius  gratefully  accepted.  M.  de  Girousse  had  the 
gate  opened  without  difficulty.  On  the  way  he  had  not 
addressed  a  single  word  to  the  young  people,  but  when 
they  reached  the  Place  de  la  Rotonde  he  held  out  his 
hand  to  Marius  and  said: 

"  I'm  going  in  by  the  Obitelle  Gate.    A  pleasant  journey." 

And  bending  forward  he  added  in  an  undertone: 

"  I  shall  have  a  good  laugh  to-morrow  when  I  see 
de  Cazalis'  face." 

As  Marius  looked  after  this  generous  man,  who  hid  his 
goodness  of  heart  beneath  the  sour-tempered  manners  of 
a  well-doer,  he  was  quite  affected. 

Isnard  was  awaiting  the  fugitives  with  the  cabriolet. 
Philippe  wished  to  drive  so  as  to  receive  all  the  night 
air  full  in  the  face.  He  experienced  intense  delight  in 
feeling  the  vehicle  bearing  him  away  in  the  darkness  and 
appreciated  to  the  utmost  all  the  charm  of  liberty. 

Then  came  effusions  of  the  heart  and  mutual  confidences 
as  the  horse  slowly  ascended  the  hills. 

Fine  and  Marius  confessed  their  love  to  Philippe,  and 
when  the  latter  heard  that  they  would  soon  be  married 
he  became  sad.  He  thought  of  Blanche.  Marius  under- 
stood his  feelings  and  conversing  with  him,  in  an  undertone, 
promised  to  watch  over  everything  during  his  absence.  In 
the  meanwhile  he  would  make  active  efforts  to  obtain  his 
pardon,  and  neither  he  nor  Fine  would  forget  the  exile. 

The  next  morning,  Philippe  leaning  on  the  bulwarks  of  a 
little  craft  bound  for  Genoa,  gazed  for  a  long  time  towards 
the  shore  of  Saint  Henri.  Right  away,  above  the  blue 
waves,  he  perceived  a  grey  speck,  the  house  where  poor 
Blanche  was  shedding  away  all  the  tears  in  her  heart. 


ffmrt  in. 

CHAPTER  I. 
THE   CONSPIRACY. 

ONE  calm  evening  in  February,  about  two  months  after 
Philippe's  escape,  Blanche  was  taking  a  very  slow  walk. 
Twilight  was  just  setting  in.  Far  away,  the  sea  was  quite 
pale,  and  it  broke  sluggishly  over  the  boulders  on  the 
beach,  barely  making  any  spray  under  the  impulse  of  the 
evening  breeze.  The  warmth  of  approaching  spring  could 
already  be  detected  in  the  clear  air.  In  the  grand  blue 
sky  of  the  south  one  sometimes  meets  with  winter  suns, 
possessing  all  the  invigorating  heat  of  those  of  summer. 

The  young  woman  was  taking  short  strides  beside  the 
cliff,  watching  night  falling  over  the  waves  which  were 
turning  a  blackish  blue,  whilst  their  plaintive  sounds  were 
becoming  softer.  The  unhappy  girl  was  much  changed. 
She  was  barely  seventeen,  and  yet  the  terrible  fatalities  of 
which  she  had  been  the  victim,  had  caused  her  to  stoop 
and  had  overspread  her  youthful  face  with  the  paleness 
of  death.  All  her  strength,  all  her  gay  and  thoughtless 
life  had  passed  away  in  tears.  She  was  about  to  become 
a  mother,  and  she  walked  along  with  faltering  footsteps, 
suffering  more  from  mental  trouble  than  from  her  position. 

A  few  paces  behind  her  came  a  tall,  thin,  stiff-limbed 
woman,  who  followed  her  as  a  convict-keeper  does  his 
prisoner.  She  did  not  allow  her  out  of  her  sight  and 
watched  all  her  movements.  This  woman  was  the  new 
guardian  whom  M.  de  Cazalis  had  given  his  niece  during 
the  previous  few  weeks. 

The  deputy  was  then  at  Marseilles  where  he  had  has- 
tened as  soon  as  he  had  heard  that  a  child  was  about 
to  be  born.  He  wished  to  be  there  on  the  watch.  This 
child,  this  bastard  which  was  about  to  make  its  appearance 

232 


THE   CONSPIRACY.  233 

in  his  family,  exasperated  him.  But  his  mind  was  made 
up,  and  he  was  only  waiting  to  put  into  execution  the 
plan  he  had  long  since  decided  on. 

When  he  had  been  able  to  absent  himself,  and  go  pri- 
vately to  the  cottage  at  Saint-Henri,  he  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  his  niece  was  not  close  enough  a  prisoner. 
She  must  be  completely  shut  up  if  he  wished  to  carry 
out  his  intentions.  The  first  guardian  he  had  selected, 
appeared  to  him  too  weak  and  accommodating.  He  had 
heard  that  a  young  girl  came  almost  daily  to  talk  to 
Blanche,  and  that  made  him  particularly  anxious.  It  was 
then  that  he  decided  on  entrusting  the  guardianship  of 
the  cottage  to  a  vigilant  gaoler,  who  would  allow  no  one 
to  enter  it,  and  who  would  give  him  a  faithful  account 
of  the  least  incidents  that  happened. 

Madame  Lambert,  the  stiff-limbed,  thin  woman,  the 
convict-keeper,  was  admirably  adapted  for  such  a  posi- 
tion. She  was  an  old  maid,  brought  up  with  exaggerated 
ideas  of  religious  zeal,  had  the  harsh  character  of  narrow- 
minded  people  and  the  unrelenting  cruelty  of  those  who 
have  never  loved.  She  knew  Blanche  had  given  way  to 
the  dictates  of  her  heart  and  that  made  her  all  the  harder, 
all  the  more  implacable,  she  whom  all  men  disdained. 
She  rigorously  performed  the  duty  M.  de  Cazalis  had 
entrusted  her  with,  watched  over  her  prisoner  with  diabo- 
lical cunning,  surrounded  her  with  absolute  solitude  and 
dismissed  all  who  approached  too  near. 

The  cottage  thus  became  a  sort  of  citadel  in  which  she 
entrenched  herself,  and  where  she  had  Blanche  at  her 
mercy.  Fine  was  pitilessly  driven  away :  as  soon  as  she 
appeared  on  the  hill  Madame  Lambert  placed  herself  at 
one  of  the  windows  and  continued  to  spy  her  movements 
until  she  withdrew ;  so  the  flower-girl,  in  the  end,  was 
obliged  to  give  up  her  visits.  Then  poor  Blanche  almost 
died  of  grief  and  despondency,  for  she  felt  herself  throttled 
by  the  coils  her  gaoler  set  about  her,  and  which  were 
drawn  tighter  evcrv  day. 

Abbe  Chastanier  was  the  only  visitor  admitted,  and 
even  when  he  came,  Madame  Lambert  arranged  to  hear 
what  he  said  to  his  penitent. 


234  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

On  that  particular  evening  Blanche  had  obtained  per- 
mission from  her  guardian  to  take  a  short  walk  on  the 
sea-shore.  She  was  in  great  uneasiness  and  suffered  from 
fits  of  giddiness  which  were  calmed  by  the  fresh  air.  The 
two  people  continued  to  follow  the  cliff,  the  young  woman 
wondering  how  she  could  baffle  this  supervision  which 
interfered  with  her  plans,  the  guardian  glancing  behind 
each  rock  in  fear  that  someone  would  suddenly  rush  out 
and  rob  her  of  her  prisoner.  As  they  were  about  to 
return,  they  suddenly  saw  a  dark  form  advancing  towards 
them  along  the  narrow  path. 

Night  had  completely  set  in.  Madame  Lambert  was 
greatly  afraid,  and  was  advancing  rapidly  in  front  when 
she  recognised  Abbe  Chastanier.  The  priest  not  having 
found  Blanche  at  the  cottage  had  come  to  look  for  her 
on  the  beach. 

"  Let  us  go  in  quick,"  said  Madame  Lambert,  sharply. 
"  You  will  be  more  comfortable  talking  in  the  drawing- 
room.  The  breeze  is  becoming  fresh." 

"We  are  very  well  here,"  murmured  Blanche.  "Let 
us  remain  a  little  while  longer." 

And  she  nudged  Abbe  Chastanier  so  that  he  might 
support  her. 

"Eh!  yes,"  he  said  in  his  turn,  "it  is  quite  a  spring 
evening.  The  fresh  air  of  the  sea  is  beautiful,  and  will 
do  our  dear  invalid  a  deal  of  good." 

Then  he  took  the  young  woman's  arm  and  added  gaily : 

"  We'll  walk  along  together,  my  dear  child,  like  a  couple 
of  lovers !  If  you  are  afraid  of  catching  cold,  Madame 
Lambert,  pray  go  in.  We'll  rejoin  you  presently." 

And  he  continued  along  the  path  beside  the  cliff, 
leading  Blanche,  who  was  laughing  at  his  adroit  manoeuvre, 
along  with  him.  The  guardian  took  very  good  care  not 
to  go  in ;  for  she  would  have  preferred  to  run  the  risk 
of  catching  twenty  colds  rather  than  lose  sight  of  her 
prisoner  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  She  therefore  pro- 
ceeded to  follow  the  pair  at  a  distance  of  ten  paces,  full 
of  anxiety,  straining  her  ears  to  discover  what  they 
said,  and  angry  against  the  waves,  the  sound  of  which 
prevented  her  hearing.  She  could  listen  at  her  ease  in 


THE   CONSPIRACY.  235 

the  cottage,  either  openly  or  hidden  behind  a  door;  but 
there,  on  the  rocks,  she  did  not  dare,  she  was  unable  to 
exercise  her  calling  of  spy. 

"How  much  I  thank  you,"  said  Blanche  to  the  priestr 
in  a  sad  and  grateful  tone,  "  for  having  helped  me  to- 
procure  a  moment's  conversation  with  you!  My  prison, 
as  you  see,  becomes  narrower  and  narrower  every  day." 

"  Have  hope,  my  dear  child,"  answered  Abbe  Chastanier, 
"  you  will  soon  be  free,  and  you  will  then  be  able  to  act 
according  to  your  faith  and  heart." 

"  Oh !  I  was  not  thinking  of  myself,  they  can  do  what 
they  please  with  my  personality,  without  fear  that  I  shall 
ever  have  the  least  idea  of  revolting.  Besides,  you  know 
my  resolution,  your  words  have  shown  me  the  only  road 
I  can  follow  now." 

"  It  is  not  I,  it  is  Providence  that  has  brought  you 
peace  and  hope." 

Blanche  did  not  seem  to  understand,  but  continued 
becoming  animated  little  by  little: 

"  I  have  sacrificed  all  my  pleasure,  and  am  pleased  to 
suffer,  for  I  hope  thus  to  obtain  my  pardon.  At  times 
I  would  like  to  invent  harder  punishment  to  hasten  my 
penitence." 

"  Then,  my  child,  why  do  you  complain  of  your  solitude  ?" 
inquired  the  abbe  gently. 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  myself,  my  father.  If  I  alone 
were  threatened  with  imprisonment,  perhaps  for  ever,  I 
would  be  resigned  to  my  fate,  but  I  am  trembling  for 
the  little  creature  I  am  about  to  bring  into  the  world." 

"What  is  there  to  fear?" 

"  I  hardly  know.  If  my  uncle  had  not  some  plan  he 
would  not  shut  me  up  like  this.  Look  at  all  the  pre- 
cautions that  are  taken  to  isolate  me,  to  prevent  me 
communicating,  with  you  even.  I  am  certain  that  at  this 
moment  Madame  Lambert  is  in  despair." 

"  You  exaggerate." 

"No,  you  know  what  I  say  is  true,  and  you  are 
endeavouring  to  dispel  my  anxiety.  All  this,  you  see, 
strikes  terror  into  me,  and  I  fear  for  my  child,  I  fear  a 
misfortune  that  I  feel  there,  in  the  dark." 


236  THE   MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

She  preserved  a  painful  silence,  and  then  suddenly 
continued,  in  a  broken  voice: 

"Will  you  help  me  to  save  my  child?" 

The  priest  was  surprised  and  troubled  at  her  cry.  He 
hesitated  without  daring  to  answer. 

"Be  calm,"  he  said  at  length.  "You  know  I  am 
•devoted  to  you." 

"I  repeat,"  continued  Blanche,  "that  I  have  made  the 
sacrifice  of  all  my  joy,  but  I  wish  my  child  to  be  happy." 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  asked  Abbe  Chastanier, 
moved  by  what  she  said. 

Madame  Lambert  had  approached  little  by  little  and 
was  treading  almost  on  their  heels.  Blanche  heard  the  sound 
•of  her  footsteps  on  the  boulders  and  bending  forward  said 
to  the  priest  in  a  low  voice : 

"  Request  Fine  to  come  here  to-morrow  at  about  six 
•o'clock  in  the  evening  and  to  pass  beside  me,  without 
Madame  Lambert  being  able  to  recognise  her." 

The  next  day  Blanche  and  her  guardian  were  again 
strolling  along  the  cliff  at  sunset.  During  the  daytime  the 
young  woman  had  been  complaining  of  a  violent  head- 
ache and  had  passed  the  whole  afternoon  shut  up  in  her 
room.  Then,  towards  evening,  she  had  feigned  giddiness 
and  complained  of  feeling  sick,  in  order  to  take  the  air 
beside  the  sea. 

Madame  Lambert  who  was  full  of  distrust  kept  close 
to  her,  determined  that  she  would  not  allow  the  same 
trick  to  be  played  her  as  on  the  preceding  evening, 
whilst  Blanche,  from  time  to  time,  looked  anxiously 
towards  the  Marseilles  road. 

As  night  closed  in  she  saw  in  the  distance  a  woman 
"wrapped  in  a  Provencal  cloak,  and  with  her  face  hidden 
in  a  large  calico  hood,  advancing  from  that  direction. 
At  her  quick,  light  step,  she  guessed  it  was  the  person 
•she  was  expecting.  The  woman  came  rapidly  forward, 
and,  as  she  passed  by,  knocked  up  against  Blanche,  who 
handed  her  a  letter  murmuring: 

"Accomplish  my  wishes,  I  beseech  you!" 
Fine's  sweet  face  appeared  for  a  moment  under  the  hood, 
•with  a  kind,  consoling  smile,  full  of  promise  of  devotedness, 


M.    DE   CAZALIS   HAS   A   PLAN.  237 

and    then    the    flower-girl     continued    on    her    way    as 
quickly  as  she  had  come. 

Madame  Lambert,  thin  and  stiff,  had  neither  seen  nor 
understood  anything. 


CHAPTER  II. 
M.    DE   CAZALIS   HAS   A    PLAN. 

IT  was  as  Blanche  had  said,  if  her  uncle  had  not 
formed  certain  plans  he  would  not  have  shut  her  up  in  this. 
way.  The  desire  to  hide  the  young  woman's  condition 
did  not  justify  the  excessive  precautions  that  M.  de  Ca- 
zalis  was  taking  to  isolate  her,  and  keep  her  completely 
in  his  power.  The  merciless  part  played  by  Madame 
Lambert,  the  grave  and  severe  attitude  of  the  deputy,, 
the  solitary  life  she  was  made  to  lead,  all  warned  the 
unfortunate  girl  that  she  was  threatened  with  some  cruel 
event  which  was  being  prepared  in  the  dark.  Maternal 
instinct  told  her  that  it  was  not  her  they  sought  to  strike, 
but  the  infant  that  was  still  unborn.  They  were  no  doubt 
awaiting  this  little  creature's  birth,  and  then  something 
terrible  would  take  place  which  she  could  not  foresee,  but 
the  thought  of  which  made  her  tremble. 

The  fear  which  troubled  Blanche  was  exaggerated.  The 
solitude  in  which  she  lived  caused  her  over-excitement 
and  gave  her  horrible  hallucinations.  M.  de  Cazalis  was  not 
the  sort  of  man  to  injure  his  reputation  by  martyrizing  a 
child.  He  merely  wished  to  make  Blanche's  heir  disap- 
pear as  promptly  as  possible.  But  here,  in  a  few  words, 
is  an  account  of  the  plan  he  had  formed,  along  with  the 
reasons  that  urged  him  to  act  as  he  did. 

Blanche  at  her  father's  death,  was  possessed  of  several 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  francs.  She  was  then  ten  years 
old.  She  went  to  live  with  her  uncle,  who  was  appointed 
her  legal  guardian  and  who,  from  that  time,  administered 
her  fortune.  However,  he  did  not  make  any  great 
inroad  into  her  wealth ;  but  at  the  sight  of  so  much  gold 
in  his  hands,  he  lost  his  head,  cut  a  great  dasli  and  spent 


238  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

almost  all  he  possessed.  When  his  niece  ran  away  with 
Philippe,  he  was  in  a  dreadful  fright  of  being  called  upon 
to  produce  the  accounts  of  his  guardianship,  for  if  this 
fortune  had  been  taken  out  of  his  control  he  would  have 
been  reduced  to  absolute  poverty,  as  he  had  been  living 
for  several  months  entirely  on  his  niece's  money. 

So  long  as  the  young  girl  remained  with  him,  he  knew 
he  had  nothing  to  fear.  He  could  do  what  he  pleased 
with  her,  bend  her  to  his  will  like  a  piece  of  soft  wax. 
The  child's  weak  character  put  him  at  ease.  Such  a  doll 
would  never  dare  to  claim  her  own.  He  was  counting 
•on  marrying  her  or  placing  her  in  a  convent  whilst  giving 
her  the  least  money  possible,  but  the  escapade  of  the 
two  lovers  had  quite  put  him  out  of  his  reckoning.  If 
he  had  burst  into  a  passion,  hunted  them  down,  taken 
his  niece  violently  back  home,  it  was  because  he  was  afraid 
-of  a  marriage  between  her  and  Philippe :  he  knew  Philippe, 
and  he  knew  he  was  a  man  to  make  him  give  up  the 
last  piece  of  gold.  His  interest  was  affected  quite  as 
seriously  as  his  pride. 

While  he  was  protesting  aloud  against  a  misalliance, 
he  shuddered  as  he  confessed  to  himself  in  his  mind, 
that  this  misalliance  would  not  merely  be  a  stain  on  his 
•coat  of  arms,  but  that  it  would  also  make  a  terrible  hole 
in  his  purse,  through  which  all  his  luxury  and  power 
would  disappear. 

And  now  Blanche  was  to  have  an  heir,  and  that  heir 
would  be  more  exacting  than  his  mother.  All  his  calcu- 
Jations  were  upset.  He  became  merciless,  insisted  on 
dragging  Philippe  to  the  pillory,  sought  to  render  him 
infamous  in  order  to  cast  some  of  the  infamy  on  his 
•child,  and  wished  to  deprive  the  infant  of  his  rights  before 
he  even  came  into  the  world. .  When  he  heard  that  Phi- 
lippe had  fled  and  had  thus  escaped  the  infamy  in  store 
for  him,  his  anxiety  became  absolute  terror.  He  was  ruined. 

The  struggle  was  becoming  terrible.  If  he  were  com- 
pelled to  produce  the  accounts  connected  with  his  guardian- 
ship, he  would  become  literally  penniless.  Indeed,  he  would 
feel  extremely  happy  if  he  escaped  so  easily,  at  the  cost 
of  poverty,  for  he  was  not  sure  that  he  had  not  made 


M.   DE   CAZALIS   HAS   A   PLAN.  239 

too  wide  and  visible  an  inroad  into  Blanche's  patrimony. 

In  the  one  case  if  he  kept  both  his  niece  and  her  money 
with  him,  he  could  continue  to  live  in  grand  style  and 
plunder  the  young  girl  in  a  legal  way;  in  the  other,  if 
he  were  suddenly  asked  for  a  statement  cf  accounts,  if 
the  capital  placed  in  his  hands  were  exacted  in  the  child's 
name,  he  would  be  obliged  to  ask  for  charity,  in  order 
not  to  die  of  hunger. 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  with  what  energy  he  accepted 
the  battle  and  how  eagerly  he  sought  to  triumph. 

Blanche,  for  him,  was  nothing.  At  a  simple  look,  on 
merely  raising  the  voice,  she  trembled  and  consented  to 
everything.  But  he  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  the  child. 
That  little  creature  who  had  not  yet  seen  the  light  of 
•day,  made  the  all-powerful  Cazalis  turn  pale.  He  caught 
himself  hoping  that  it  would  be  still-born.  He  would 
not  have  destroyed  it,  out  of  pride  for  his  race,  but  he 
prayed  Providence  to  do  the  work.  The  poor  little  creature 
would  grow  up,  and  some  day,  prompted  by  the  Cayols, 
might  demand  his  mother's  wealth.  This  thought  brought 
cold  drops  of  perspiration  to  the  deputy's  forehead.  The 
Cayols  were  his  great  terror.  If  they  ever  became  possessed 
of  the  child  they  would  rear  it  as  an  instrument  of  ven- 
geance. Then  he  thought  of  all  the  misfortunes  that  would 
fall  upon  his  head :  he  would  have  to  disgorge,  hand  over 
a  whole  fortune  to  these  people  whom  he  would  have 
liked  to  crush ;  and  as  for  himself,  he  would,  perhaps,  have 
to  go  begging  along  the  roads. 

Those  were  the  reasons  that  had  made  him  shut  up 
Blanche  in  the  cottage  on  the  sea-shore.  He  sought  to 
isolate  her  from  the  Cayols,  to  prevent  them  coming  to 
an  understanding  with  her  and  stealing  the  child  as  soon 
as  it  was  born.  All  the  precautions  he  was  taking,  were 
in  the  view  of  obtaining  full  and  entire  possession  of  the 
infant.  If  he  imprisoned  Blanche  it  was  solely  for  the 
purpose  of  imprisoning  her  babe.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  be  there  at  the  child's  birth  for  the  purpose  of 
seizing  it  and  preventing  it  being  made  the  instrument  of 
his  ruin.  In  the  meantime,  he  had  instructed  Madame 
Lambert  to  keep  watch  in  the  vicinity  of  the  cottage  and 


240  THE   MYSTERIES  OF   MARSEILLES. 

to  see  that  no  one  penetrated  within.     He  feared  surprise. 

He  said  to  himself  that  he  would  only  be  in  safety 
when  he  had  secured  the  babe.  Sometimes,  at  the  bottom 
of  his  heart,  he  was  almost  pleased  that  his  niece  had 
been  guilty  of  an  irreparable  fault.  If  she  had  married, 
he  would  only  have  succeeded  with  the  utmost  difficulty 
in  retaining  a  small  part  of  her  fortune.  Now,  it  was 
probable  she  would  never  marry;  she  would  enter  a  convent 
to  weep  over  her  shame,  and  he  could  keep  all  her 
money  with  impunity.  He  tolerated  Abbe  Chastanier's 
visits  because  he  hoped  the  old  priest  would  indicate 
religion  to  Blanche  as  a  refuge.  He  felt  that  this  way 
of  getting  rid  of  the  unfortunate  girl  would  certainly 
succeed. 

When  once  the  mother  was  in  a  convent,  he  would 
attend  to  the  little  one.  His  plan  consisted  in  keeping 
it  near  him,  and  bringing  it  up  with  care,  so  as  to  endea- 
vour to  set  its  mind,  also,  on  religion.  However,  he  could 
not  foresee  the  future.  The  only  thing  he  wanted  was 
to  have  all  the  chances  on  his  own  side.  In  place  of 
immediate  ruin  he  preferred  the  risk  of  a  catastrophe  in 
the  distance.  His  adopted  son,  if  son  it  were,  would  grow 
up  under  his  eyes,  and  he  would  endeavour  to  get  rid 
of  him  in  an  upright  way,  either  by  persuading  him  to 
take  Holy  Orders,  or  by  getting  him  killed  in  warfare,  after 
having  discovered  a  legal  means  to  rob  him  of  what 
belonged  to  him.  If  it  were  a  girl,,  he  would  make  her 
take  the  veil.  In  any  case,  boy  or  girl,  he  must  prevent 
the  child  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Cayols  at  any  cost. 

We  now  know  the  plan  that  M.  de  Cazalis  had  formed. 
He  came  to  see  Blanche  every  morning,  accompanied  by 
a  doctor  who  gave  him  daily  information  as  to  her  condition. 
When  she  ventured  to  make  a  timid  complaint  as  to  the 
way  in  which  she  was  imprisoned,  he  flew  into  a  passion, 
spoke  of  the  honour  of  the  family,  and  made  her  crimson 
by  shouting  out  to  her  that  she  ought  to  bury  herself  in 
a  tomb  of  her  own  accord,  to  hide  her  shame  from  the 
world.  He  wanted  to  finish  with  the  business,  for  he  was 
anxious  to  return  to  Paris,  where  his  Parliamentary  duties 
required  his  presence,  it  being  the  middle  of  the  Session; 


THE   EFFECTS  PRODUCED   BY    A   WHITE   RAG.    241 

but  he  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  leave  until  he  had 
placed  the  new-born  babe  in  sure  hands. 

Each  day  he  made  Madame  Lambert  give  an  exact 
account  of  what  had  occurred  during  his  absence  and  was 
particular  in  asking  her  if  she  had  seen  anyone  loitering 
near  the  house.  The  guardian  set  his  mind  at  ease,  no 
one  had  approached  the  place,  and  he  began  to  think  there 
would  be  no  contention  for  the  child. 

And  so  he  was  immensely  delighted  when  he  was 
informed  one  morning,  that  the  birth  would  in  all  probability 
take  place  that  same  evening. 

But  Blanche  had  heard  what  had  been  said  in  an 
undertone,  and  when  her  uncle  and  the  doctor  had  left 
her  room,  she  dragged  herself  to  the  window  and  fastened 
a  piece  of  white  rag  to  the  shutter. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WHICH    TELLS   OF   THE  EFFECTS    PRODUCED   BY 
A   PIECE   OF   WHITE   RAG. 

To  understand  the  events  that  are  about  to  follow,  it  is 
necessary  to  give  a  short  description  of  the  cottage  on 
the  seashore.  It  was  built  in  a  rather  peculiar  way :  it 
had  two  doors,  one  in  the  front  which  gave  access  to  the 
rooms  below,  and  the  other  at  the  back  which  led  straight 
from  the  ground  to  the  rooms  upstairs.  The  cottage  was 
built  against  the  rock,  so  that  the  first  floor,  seen  from  the 
country,  appeared  to  be  only  a  ground  floor. 

The  room  occupied  by  Blanche  was  upstairs  to  the  left 
of  the  staircase  and  had  windows  facing  the  sea.  Fol- 
lowing on  to  this  room  was  a  smaller  one  which  served 
as  a  dressing-room,  and  into  this  opened  the  door  at 
the  back.  This  door  had  a  rusty  lock  and  had  perhaps 
not  turned  on  its  hinges  for  twcntv  years.  The  key  to  it 
being  lost,  it  was  never  used. 

When  M.  de  Cazalis  took  the  house,  he  had  not  thought 
of  troubling  about  this  exit,  which  seemed  closed  for  good. 

Blanche,  some  days  before  being  laid  up,  while  looking 

1 6 


242  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

for  a  pin  she  had  dropped,  was  very  much  surprised  to 
come  across  a  key  hidden  between  the  floor  and  the  wall, 
and  her  first  thought  was  that  it  must  belong  to  the  door 
in  question.  She  was  not  mistaken :  it  turned  in  the  lock, 
and  pulling  the  door  towards  her  she  was  able  to  gaze 
out  on  the  country.  She  placed  her  discovery  in  safety, 
and  spoke  to  no  one  about  it,  being  forewarned  by  a  sort 
of  instinct,  that  she  would  in  future  have  a  means  of 
safety  in  her  hands. 

On  the  day  she  was  taken  ill  she  fastened  a  piece  of 
white  rag  to  the  window  shutter,  and  then,  after  taking 
the  key  from  the  bottom  of  a  drawer  where  she  had  hidden 
it,  went  back  to  bed  and  slipped  it  under  the  bolster. 

As  soon  as  M.  de  Cazalis  heard  that  the  baby  would 
be  born  that  evening  he  resolved  to  stay  in  the  house, 
and  not  leave  it  until  the  child  was  in  his  possession.  He 
retained  a  doctor,  sent  for  the  midwife,  and  despatched 
a  messenger  to  Marseilles  to  fetch  a  wet-nurse  whom  he 
had  engaged  some  time  previous,  and  who  was  a  creature 
of  his  own,  on  whose  fidelity  he  could  rely. 

When  these  precautions  had  been  taken  he  awaited 
events.  To  pass  the  time,  he  went  for  a  walk  beside  the 
sea,  feeling  very  anxious  notwithstanding  his  busy  frame 
of  mind,  and  thinking  he  would  be  lost  if  the  infant  escaped 
him.  He  calmed  himself,  a  little,  by  reflecting  that  such 
a  thing  was  impossible,  as  he  would  not  leave  Blanche's 
door  until  the  new-born  babe  had  been  taken  away  by  the 
wet-nurse.  He  walked  for  several  hours  along  the  beach 
casting,  from  time  to  time,  a  glance  at  the  windows  of  his 
niece's  room.  Madame  Lambert  was  to  come  and  call 
him  as  soon  as  all  was  over.  Night  closed  in,  and  he 
ended  by  seating  himself  among  the  boulders,  watching 
the  shadows  flitting  across  the  cottage  windows. 

In  the  meanwhile  poor  Blanche  was  in  agony,  and  at 
one  time  doctor  and  midwife  despaired  of  her  life.  She 
had  been,  so  weakened  by  sorrow,  that  she  was  hardly 
able  to  bear  up  against  the  present  physical  trial.  She 
had  a  son,  but  she  did  not  hear  the  poor  little  thing's 
first  cry:  pale,  insensible,  and  with  the  appearance  of  a 
corpse,  she  was  lying  on  her  couch  of  pain.  The  infant 


THE   EFFECTS   PRODUCED   BY   A   WHITE   RAG.    243 

Avas  placed  beside  her,  the  wet-nurse  not  having  yet 
arrived,  and  Madame  Lambert  ran  to  inform  M.  de  Cazalis 
that  everything  had  ended  well,  and  his  niece  was  dying. 

The  deputy  came  in  all  haste,  very  much  annoyed  to 
find  that  the  wet-nurse  was  not  there.  He,  however, 
restrained  himself,  so  as  not  to  show  his  anxiety  before 
the  doctor  and  midwife.  At  heart  he  cared  very  little 
about  his  niece's  sufferings,  but  in  presence  of  her  pale 
exhausted  form  extended  on  the  bed,  he  had  to  assume 
a  concerned  and  affectionate  manner.  Turning  to  the 
doctor  he  inquired  if  there  was  still  danger. 

"Not  at  present,"  was  the  answer,  "and  I  think  I  can 
withdraw." 

Then  pointing  to  the  midwife: 

"Madame's  presence  will  be  sufficient,  only  I  must 
impress  on  you  that  the  patient  must  be  spared  all  worry  and 
excitement.  Her  life  depends  on  it.  I  will  come  again 
to-morrow." 

The  wet-nurse  arrived  just  as  M.  de  Cazalis  was 
seeing  the  doctor  out.  He  returned  with  her  into  the 
•house,  and  severely  upbraided  her  as  they  went  upstairs 
to  Blanche's  room.  The  wet-nurse  excused  herself  as 
best  she  could  and  the  deputy  gave  her  his  final  instruc- 
tions. She  was  to  take  away  the  new-born  child  and 
watch  over  him  from  hour  to  hour,  with  the  greatest 
A'igilance.  The  following  morning  she  was  to  leave  for  the 
village  where  she  resided,  and  which  was  situated  in  an 
out-of-the-way  corner  in  the  department  of  the  Basses- 
Alpes.  He  hoped  they  would  not  go  and  ferret  out  his 
•great  nephew  at  the  bottom  of  such  a  hole  as  that. 

He  found  Madame  Lambert  and  the  midwife  silently 
bending  over  the  patient's  bed,  but  when  he  approached 
to  take  the  child,  so  as  to  give  him  to  the  nurse,  he  met 
Blanche's  eyes.  They  had  just  opened  wide,  and  were 
fixed  upon  him.  He  had  the  courage,  however,  to  stretch 
out  his  arm. 

Then  the  young  woman  making  a  great  effort  succeeded 
in  sitting  up  in  bed  and  pressed  the  child  to  her  bosom. 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  said  to  M.  de  Cazalis  in  a 
•choking  undertone. 


244  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

The  deputy  started  back. 

"The  wet-nurse  is  here,"  he  replied,  hesitating.  "You 
know  what  was  agreed.  You  must  give  her  your  child." 

He  had  told  her  a  few  days  before  the  event  that  the 
honour  of  the  family  depended  on  Philippe's  child  being 
sent  away  from  the  moment  of  its  birth.  She  had  shewn 
herself  as  pliant  as  usual  on  hearing  her  uncle's  brief 
and  cruel  words.  But  she  had  hoped  she  would  have 
been  able  to  keep  the  new-born  babe  with  her  at  least 
for  twenty-four  hours,  for  it  was  on  that  hope  she  had 
based  her  plan  for  placing  him  out  of  harm's  way. 

When  she  heard  M.  de  Cazalis  insist  on  the  child 
being  instantly  handed  over  to  the  nurse,  she  imagined 
all  was  lost.  If  they  took  him  away  at  once,  her  plan 
was  upset,  she  had  no  time  to  put  him  beyond  the 
danger  that  she  foresaw,  with  her  motherly  anxiety, 
would  be  in  store  for  him,  and  she  became  still  paler 
than  before,  if  possible,  as  she  pressed  him  to  her  bosom. 

"  Oh !  for  mercy's  sake !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  leave  him 
me  until  to-morrow  morning." 

She  felt  herself  weak,  and  was  afraid  of  showing  cowar- 
dice and  obeying. 

The  deputy  continued  with  a  voice  that  he  endeavoured 
to  keep  calm,  in  order  not  to  be  overheard  by  the  midwife : 

"  You  are  asking  me  what  is  impossible.  Your  son 
must  disappear  for  some  time,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be 
covered  with  shame." 

"I  will  give  him  you  to-morrow,"  pleaded  Blanche, 
shuddering.  "  Be  kind,  permit  me  to  gaze  on  him  and 
love  him  until  then.  That  cannot  do  you  any  harm,  no 
one  will  see  him  to-night  in  this  room." 

"  It's  much  better  to  finish  at  once.  Kiss  him  and 
give  him  to  the  nurse." 

"  No !  I  shall  keep  him.     You  are  killing  me,  sir !  " 

She  uttered  these  last  words  in  an  heartrending  tone 
of  voice.  M.  de  Cazalis  said  no  more,  fearing  to  fly  into 
a  passion :  this  unforeseen  resistance  surprised  and  alarmed 
him.  He  was  advancing  to  grasp  the  poor  little  creature 
which  the  mother  held  folded  in  her  arms,  when  the 
midwife,  who  had  been  listening,  took  him  aside  and  told 


THE   EFFECTS   PRODUCED   BY   A  WHITE   RAG.     245 

him  she  would  not  be  answerable  for  his  niece  if  he 
persevered  in  this  odious  scene.  He  then  saw  that  it 
was  necessary  to  give  way. 

"Very  well!  Keep  your  son,"  he  exclaimed  sharply. 
"The  wet-nurse  will  wait  until  to-morrow." 

Blanche  placed  the  babe  beside  her,  then  fell  back  on 
the  pillow,  surprised  and  happy  at  her  victory.  A  pink 
tint  overspread  her  cheeks,  she  shut  her  eyes  feigning 
sleep,  and  felt  full  of  hope  and  joy. 

Shortly  afterwards  Madame  Lambert  and  the  midwife 
seeing  her  quiet,  withdrew  to  take  a  little  rest,  and  M. 
de  Cazalis  remained  for  an  instant  alone  with  his  niece, 
who  continued  to  keep  her  eyes  shut.  He  looked  at  the 
new-born  babe  and  said  to  himself  that  this  poor  creature, 
so  weak  and  puny,  was  his  most  cruel  enemy.  As  he 
was  at  last  about  to  leave  the  apartment  he  fancied  he 
heard  a  slight  noise  in  the  dressing-room.  He  opened 
the  door  and  looked,  but  seeing  nothing  he  thought  he 
must  have  been  mistaken.  Then  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
go  downstairs,  but  with  the  intention  of  sitting  up  all 
night,  for  in  spite  of  himself,  he  felt  secretly  uneasy.  If 
he  had  given  way  to  Blanche,  it  was  because  he  could 
not  do  otherwise.  The  infant  ought  already  to  have 
been  far  away.  However,  he  would  get  rid  of  him  to-mor- 
row, that  was  understood,  and  it  was  impossible  for  the 
Cayols  to  come  and  take  him  between  now  and  then.  He 
had  put  bolts  on  the  front  door  himself. 

As  soon  as  Blanche  was  alone,  she  abruptly  raised 
herself  in  bed  and  listened  attentively,  for  she  also  had 
heard  a  slight  noise  coming  from  the  dressing-room.  She 
rose  with  an  effort,  took  the  key  hidden  under  the  bolster 
and  staggered  along,  clutching  hold  of  the  articles  of 
furniture,  towards  the  door  at  the  back  of  the  house. 
This  was  an  imprudence  that  might  kill  her.  But  she 
seemed  borne  up  by  superhuman  strength  and  advanced 
along  the  tile-flooring  without  reflecting  that  she  was  risking 
her  life.  She  simply  said  to  herself  that  she  was  saving 
her  son. 

There  was  a  scratching  at  the  old  front  door  and  that 
•was  the  noise  which  had  attracted  the  attention  of  M.  de 


246  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

Cazalis.  Blanche,  who  was  giddy,  managed  to  get  the 
key  into  the  lock,  after  having  nearly  fainted  more  than- 
ten  times,  and  turn  it.  The  door  opened  and  Fine  entered. 

The  note  Blanche  had  given  her  in  secret  a  few  days 
before,  contained  these  few  sentences :  "  I  have  need  of  your 
affection  and  devotedness.  I  know  what  your  heart  is 
like,  and  I  come  to  you  as  to  a  friend.  When  I  require 
your  assistance  I  will  fasten  a  white  rag  to  my  window 
shutter.  I  shall  expect  you  at  about  one  o'clock  on  the 
following  morning.  Keep  at  the  old  front  door  at  the 
back  of  the  house  and  scratch  against  it  softly  to  apprise 
me  of  your  presence.  You  will  be  my  good  angel." 

When  Fine  had  perused  this  note  she  understood  that 
it  referred  to  Philippe's  child.  She  consulted  Marius  who 
advised  her  to  comply  precisely  with  the  instructions 
Blanche  gave.  The  next  morning,  the  flower-girl  placed 
a  lad  on  the  beach  at  about  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
cottage,  with  orders  to  come  and  tell  her  as  soon  as  ever 
he  perceived  the  signal  agreed  upon.  The  lad  remained 
at  his  post  for  nearly  a  week  without  seeing  anything.  At 
last,  one  morning,  he  caught  sight  of  the  white  rag  and  ran 
in  all  haste  to  Marseilles. 

In  the  evening  Fine  and  Marius  came  in  a  cabriolet  to 
Saint-Henri.  They  left  the  vehicle  in  the  village  and 
both  walked  towards  the  rocks  in  the  midst  of  which  stood 
the  cottage.  He  remained  in  hiding  at  a  few  steps  from 
the  old  front  door,  while  she  scratched  at  it,  at  the  ap- 
pointed hour. 

Blanche  barely  had  time  to  let  her  in,  before  falling  into 
her  arms  in  a  fainting  fit.  The  flower-girl  promptly  carried 
her  to  her  bed,  covered  up  her  shivering  limbs,  and  then 
hastened  to  bolt  the  door  on  the  landing  so  that  no  one 
might  surprise  them.  After  that,  she  threw  off  her  long 
cloak  and  gave  all  her  attention  to  the  invalid  whose  eyes- 
remained  closed. 

Blanche,  little  by  little,  recovered  consciousness.  As 
soon  as  she  opened  her  eyes  and  recognised  Fine 
beside  her,  she  raised  herself  up,  and  with  her  heart  full 
of  joy  and  hope,  fell  on  the  girl's  neck  and  wept  tears  of 
happiness. 


THE    EFFECTS   PRODUCED  BY    A   WHITE   RAG.    247 

For  a  few  moments  neither  was  able  to  speak,  but 
Fine,  catching  sight  of  the  baby,  took  it  up  and  kissed 
it.  Then  a  stifled  cry  escaped  Blanche's  lips. 

"  You'll  love  him  as  if  you  were  his  mother,  won't  you?" 
she  asked. 

The  flower-girl  gazed  on  the  infant  with  that  tender 
look  of  girls  who  are  in  love  and  dream  of  maternity. 
While  contemplating  Philippe's  son,  she  thought  with  a 
blush  of  Marius,  and  said  to  herself: 

"I  shall  have  a  child  like  that."  Then  she  placed  the 
babe  on  the  bed  and  sat  down  beside  Blanche. 

"  Listen,"  the  latter  said,  rapidly,  "  we  have  very  little 
time  before  us.  They  may  come  upstairs  and  surprise 
us  at  any  moment.  You  are  quite  devoted  to  me,  are 
you  not  ? " 

Fine  bent  forward  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead. 

"  I  love  you  as  a  sister,"  she  answered. 

"  I  know  it,  and  it  is  for  that  reason  that  I  confide  in 
you.  I  am  going  to  give  you  the  most  sacred  legacy 
that  any  woman  can  leave  behind  her." 

"  But  you  are  not  dead !  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  dead !  In  a  few  days,  when  I  am  well 
again,  I  shall  belong  to  the  Almighty.  Do  not  interrupt 
me.  I  quit  this  world,  and,  before  leaving  it,  I  desire  to 
give  my  child  a  mother,  for  he  will  soon  have  none,  and 
I  have  thought  of  you." 

And  Blanche  gave  Fine  a  warm  pressure  of  the  hand. 

"You  have  done  well,"  said  the  flower-girl,  calmly. 
"  You  know  I  always  considered  that  your  child  would 
be,  in  a  sort  of  way,  mine." 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  to  love  him,"  said  the  invalid 
with  an  effort.  "  Love  him  as  you  know  how  to  love, 
with  all  your  heart;  love  him  for  me  and  for  Philippe, 
and  endeavour  to  let  him  have  a  happier  life  than  that 
of  his  parents." 

She  was  choking  with  sobs,  but  after  a  few  moments 
continued : 

"  Although  I  have  only  to  ask  you,  for  you  to  love 
my  child,  I  must  implore  you  with  joined  hands  to 
watch  over  him  vigilantly.  From  to-morrow,  hide  him 


248  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

somewhere,  in  some  out-of-the  way  corner;  endeavour  to 
prevent  anyone  suspecting  the  secret  of  his  birth;  in  a 
word,  swear  to  me  that  you  will  protect  him  against 
everyone  and  keep  him  always  near  you  as  a  sacred  trust. " 

As  she  spoke  she  became  excited  and  Fine  had  to 
make  her  a  sign  imploring  her  to  lower  her  voice. 

"Do  you  fear  foul  play?"  inquired  the  flower-girl 
softly. 

"  I  know  not  what  I  fear.  It  seems  to  me  that  my 
uncle  hates  this  child,  and  I  hand  him  over  to  you  so 
that  he  may  not  remain  in  his  power.  As  I  am  unable 
to  be  there  to  watch  over  him  I  desire  to  leave  him  to 
an  honest  person  who  will  make  a  man  of  him.  Besides 
if,  even,  I  were  not  going  to  quit  this  world,  I  would 
refuse  to  keep  him  with  me,  because  I  am  weak  and 
cowardly,  and  would  not  know  how  to  defend  him." 

"  Defend  him  against  whom  ?  " 

"  I  know  not.  I  shudder,  that  is  all.  My  uncle  is 
implacable.  But  do  not  let  us  speak  of  that.  I  give  you 
my  child  and  in  future  he  will  be  in  safety.  I  can  now 
go  away  in  tranquillity  of  mind.  I  was  so  afraid  not  to 
see  you  to-night  and  not  to  be  able  to  hand  you  this 
poor  little  mite !  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  Fine  resumed  in  a 
hesitating  voice: 

"  As  you  are  giving  me  your  last  instructions,  I  may, 
and,  indeed,  I  ought  to  put  a  question  to  you.  I  know 
you  will  not  misinterpret  my  intentions.  I  think  you 
possess  a  large  fortune  which  M.  de  Cazalis  is  adminis- 
tering ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Blanche,  "but  I  have  never  troubled 
about  the  money." 

"  Your  son  requires  nothing  now,  and  so  long  as  he 
remains  with  us,  he  may  be  poor  but  we  will  bestow  a 
wealth  of  tenderness  and  happiness  on  him.  Still,  some 
day,  a  fortune,  in  his  hands,  may  be  a  powerful  lever. 
You  do  not  intend  to  deprive  him  of  your  estate  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  I  was  leaving  the  world,  I  shall  be  like 
one  who  is  dead." 

"  That   is   another    reason  for  assuring  his  future.     Ask 


THE   EFFECTS   PRODUCED   BY   A   WHITE   RAG.    249 

M.  de  Cazalis  for  a  statement  of  his  account.  Set  your 
affairs  in  order  before  you  disappear." 

Blanche  shuddered. 

"Oh!  I  shall  never  dare  do  that,"  she  murmured. 
"You  have  no  idea  of  the  terrible  power  my  uncle  ex- 
ercises over  me :  a  mere  look  crushes  me.  No,  I  cannot 
ask  him  for  a  statement." 

"  However,  your  son's  interests  require  it." 

"No,  I  tell  you,  I  have  not  the  courage." 

Fine  for  an  instant  was  silent  and  embarrassed.  Her 
duty  urged  her  to  insist,  she  would  have  liked  to  over- 
come Blanche's  cowardly  attitude. 

"As  you  will  not  act  yourself,"  she  continued  at  last, 
"allow  others  to  watch  over  the  interests  of  this  poor  little 
creature.  You  make  no  objection  to  the  fortune,  which 
you  now  appear  to  abandon,  being,  one  of  these  days, 
claimed  on  his  behalf?  " 

"You  are  cruel,"  answered  the  young  mother,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  "  you  make  me  feel  my  weakness  and 
powerlessness  to  act.  You  know  that  I  give  you  all 
authority." 

"  Then  nothing  is  lost.  Do  not  put  your  name  to  any 
document,  do  not  sign  away  a  single  inch  of  your  pro- 
perty. And,  moreover,  as  soon  as  you  are  better,  let  me 
have  the  certificates  establishing  your  son's  identity.  In 
that  way  we  shall  be  strong,  and  able  to  speak  with 
authority  when  the  time  comes." 

Blanche  seemed  overcome  with  these  questions  of  money. 
Had  she  been  possessed  of  the  least  energy,  she  would 
not  have  withdrawn  from  the  struggle,  she  would  have 
lived  for  her  child,  protected  him,  herself,  and  defended 
his  interests.  The  (lower-girl  guessed  the  tenor  of  her 
reflections  and  added  in  a  lower  voice : 

"  If  I  have  caused  you  pain,  if  I  have  put  all  these 
questions  to  you,  it  is  because  there  is  a  man  who  has 
•claims  on  this  child,  and  who  one  of  these  days  will  him- 
self watch  over  his  interests.  I  shall  then  want  to  give 
him  an  account  of  my  mission  and  instruct  him  as  to 
how  he  must  proceed  in  order  to  complete  it." 

Blanche  burst  out  sobbing: 


250  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  I  have  never  spoken  to  you  of  Philippe,"  she  exclaimed, 
"because  I  ought  to  think  of  him  no  more.  He  left 
within  me  a  love  that  has  devoured  me  and  brought  me 
to  repentance.  Tell  him  I  have  loved  him  to  the  point 
of  quitting  this  world  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  and  tell 
him  I  entreat  him  to  labour  for  the  welfare  of  our  son. 
Whatever  he  does  will  have  my  approval." 

Just  at  that  moment  Fine  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps 
on  the  stairs.  She  rose,  hurriedly  wrapped  her  cloak 
around  her  and  took  the  child  which  the  weeping  mother 
was  holding  out  to  her,  and  passionately  kissing  again 
and  again.  This  farewell  was  full  of  mute  despair  and 
anxious  haste. 

Blanche  got  out  of  bed  to  accompany  Fine  and  close 
the  door  behind  her.  On  the  threshold  she  gave  the  little 
one  a  last  kiss  on  the  forehead.  Then,  she  had  only 
just  time  to  pull  back  the  bolt  of  her  bedroom  door  and 
get  into  bed  again.  Her  uncle  entered  softly. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

IN   WHICH   M.    DE   CAZALIS   RUNS   THE   RISK  OF 

LOSING   HIS   HEAD   WHILE   LOSING  HIS 

GREAT  NEPHEW. 

M.  DE  CAZALIS  had  fallen  half  asleep  downstairs  in  a 
sitting-room  under  Blanche's  bedroom.  In  this  drowsy 
state,  it  had  several  times  seemed  to  him  that  he  heard 
people  walking  about  overhead.  A  more  distinct  sound 
ended  by  awakening  him  with  a  start.  He  stood  up, 
full  of  distrust,  and  went  to  make  sure  whether  he  had 
been  dreaming  or  not.  But  all  he  feared  was  that  Blanche 
might  have  risen  to  write  a  letter  and  thus  inform  her 
friends  outside  of  what  had  occurred.  It  never  entered 
his  head  that  someone  could  have  penetrated  within  the 
house,  for  he  had  kept  an  eye  on  the  front  door  like  a 
watch-dog. 

He  went  upstairs  determined  to  see  what  his  niece  was 
doing.  As  he  heard  nothing  moving,  he  gently  pushed  the 
door  open  and  cast  a  look  round  the  room.  By  the  pale 


M.    DE  CAZALTS   LOSES   HIS   GREAT  NEPHEW.       251 

glimmer  of  the  night-light,  he  perceived  Blanche  with 
her  eyes  closed,  and  her  face  half  hidden  by  the  bed- 
clothes, apparently  in  a  heavy  sleep.  Encouraged  by  the 
silence,  he  resolved  to  be  quite  sure  by  making  a  minute 
inspection  of  the  apartments ;  he  first  of  all  searched  the 
dressing-room  and  found  nothing  suspicious;  he  returned 
to  the  bedroom  and  there  was  nothing  there.  He  was 
already  smiling  at  his  childish  alarm,  when  a  thought 
flashed  across  his  mind  and  he  suppressed  an  exclama- 
tion. He  had  not  seen  the  child. 

Although  he  had  already  peered  into  every  corner  he 
renewed  his  search.  He  brutally  shook  the  bed  without 
Blanche  opening  her  eyes,  and  it  did  not  even  occur  to 
him  from  this  circumstance  that  she  was  feigning  slumber. 
His  mind  was  a  prey  to  the  most  excruciating  agony,  and 
in  despair  he  ended  by  moving  round  like  a  wild  beast, 
having  but  one  idea,  that  of  finding  the  new-born  babe 
at  any  cost.  In  his  anxiety  he  stooped  down  and  looked 
under  the  articles  of  furniture,  imagining  his  niece  had 
hidden  her  son  somewhere,  to  make  him  afraid  and  drive 
him  mad.  For  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  ferreted 
about  in  a  fury,  returning  to  the  same  spot  ten  times  over, 
unable  to  believe  the  dreadful  truth. 

When  he  was  tired,  when  he  had  acquired  the  certitude 
that  the  child  was  neither  in  the  bedroom  nor  dressing- 
room,  he  went  and  stood  before  the  bed  where  Blanche 
was  lying  exhausted  and  motionless.  He  gazed  in  a 
stupid  manner  round  the  room,  where  the  little  one  had 
been  when  he  had  last  left  his  niece,  and  repeated  methodi- 
cally: "He  was  there  and  is  there  no  longer."  These 
words  found  a  painful  echo  in  his  brain. 

At  first  he  did  not  think  of  seeking  a  solution  to  this 
strange  disappearance.  He  saw  onlv  the  fart,  and  his 
fright  showed  him  in  a  flash,  all  the  consequences  of 
that  fact. 

All  his  calculations  were  baffled.  Blanche's  heir  was 
no  longer  in  his  hands,  and  he  would  be  compelled,  some 
day  or  other,  to  give  him  a  statement  as  to  what  he  had 
clone  with  his  mother's  money.  That  meant  shame  and 
misery;  it  would  be  ascertained  that  he  had  already  made 


252  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

an  inroad  into  his  niece's  fortune  and  they  would  take 
away  from  him  the  riches  which  alone  upheld  his  power. 
This  frightful  blow  was  the  forerunner  of  a  series  of 
reprisals.  He  had  no  doubt  as  to  the  hand  that  had 
dealt  it,  he  recognised  a  vengeance  of  the  Cayols,  and  he 
was  in  terror  at  the  thought  that  these  people  had  now 
his  honour  at  their  command.  He  saw  that  he  was  at 
their  mercy,  and  that  they  could  inflict  most  terrible 
•chastisement  on  him  for  his  pride. 

What  irritated  him  above  all  was  failing  at  the  last 
moment.  A  few  hours  longer  and  Philippe's  son  would 
have  been  placed  beyond  reach  of  the  Cayols.  He  felt 
that  if  he  had  not  given  way  to  Blanche's  tears  the  child 
would  already  have  been  far  away.  This  thought  re- 
minded him  of  all  the  precautions  he  had  taken,  and  he 
said  to  himself  that  a  clever  plan  had  never  so  miserably 
failed.  Little  by  little  he  became  angry,  and  gave  way  to 
blind  irritability  at  seeing  himself  duped  in  this  cruel  way. 

Then  he  tried  to  understand  how  the  child  had  been 
•carried  off  and  this  mental  investigation  increased  his  anger. 
He  understood  that  his  niece  must  have  had  a  hand  in 
the  conspiracy,  and  had  half  a  mind  to  beat  her. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  him  ?  "  he  inquired,  in  a  gruff 
voice. 

Blanche  had  been  trembling  between  the  sheets  ever 
since  her  uncle  had  entered  the  room.  She  kept  her  eyes 
obstinately  closed  in  order  that  she  might  not  see  him, 
and  also  to  delay  the  scene  she  foresaw  was  coming.  She 
listened  with  terror  to  the  sound  of  his  footsteps,  she 
followed  him  in  his  fruitless  search,  and  in  a  measure  as 
the  crisis  drew  nearer,  she  trembled  more  violently  and 
became  still  more  icy  cold.  When  he  came  and  stood 
beside  the  bed,  and  examined  her,  motionless,  dumb  with 
stupor,  she  imagined  he  was  reflecting  on  the  means  of 
putting  an  end  to  her  existence.  His  loud  voice  made 
her  open  her  eyes;  but  her  throat  was  dry,  thick  with 
agony,  and  she  could  not  answer. 

"What  have  you  done  with  the  child?"  M.  dc  Cazalis 
asked  her  again  in  a  stifled  voice. 

She   stammered,  but  was  unable  to  pronounce  a  single 


M.    DE  CAZALIS   LOSES   HIS   GREAT  NEPHEW.     253 

word.  Then  her  uncle  accused  and  reviled  her  with 
brutal  rage. 

"You  are  not  of  my  blood,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  disown 
you.  I  ought  to  have  left  you  in  the  hands  of  that  black- 
guard who  carried  you  off.  You  are  a  worthy  companion 
for  him.  What !  You  go  in  league  with  our  enemies,  you 
distrust  me  and  prefer  to  confide  your  child  to  that  family 
of  tatterdemalions !  Don't  deny  it.  I  see  it  all.  Look 
here  !  You  are  a  vile  creature.  After  having  dishonoured 
our  name,  you  do  not  flinch  from  placing  us  at  the  mercy 
of  your  lover.  Oh !  I  was  wrong.  I  ought  to  have  seen 
that  you  had  a  filthy  heart  and  should  not  have  meddled 
with  this  dirty  business.  I  hope  they'll  make  a  rascal  of 
your  son,  a  scoundrel  like  themselves,  a  beggar  who'll 
come  one  of  these  days  begging  at  our  door  and  whom 
I'll  drive  away." 

He  spoke  thus  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  a  prey  to  the 
fury  that  blinded  him  and  which  prevented  him  perceiving 
the  stupidity  of  his  behaviour.  He  showed  no  respect  for 
anything,  drenched  his  niece  with  foulness,  wounded  her 
so  deeply  that  she  rose  up,  trembling,  powerful  with  courage 
in  her  indignation  and  grief.  If  he  had  contented  himself 
with  being  imperious  and  cold,  she  would  have  shewn 
weakness  and  have  given  him  other  arms  against  her ;  but 
as  he  was  coarse,  she  became  strong,  and  answered  him 
firmly : 

"  You  have  guessed  aright,  sir,  I  have  handed  my  son 
to  those  to  whom  he  belongs.  I  am  not  obliged  to  give 
you  the  reasons  that  prompted  me  in  my  conduct,  and  I 
tell  you  that  at  this  moment  you  are  outstepping  any 
rights  you  may  have  over  me.  However,  you  know  I 
have  come  to  a  resolution:  as  soon  as  I  have  recovered 
I  shall  take  the  veil,  we  shall  be  strangers  to  each  other. 
Cease,  then,  reviling  me." 

"  But  why  would  you  not  leave  me  this  child  whom  I 
would  have  loved  as  a  son?  "  continued  her  uncle,  who 
with  difficulty  restrained  himself. 

"I  acted  according  to  the  dictates  of  my  heart,"  she 
continued.  "Do  not  question  me,  I  cannot  answer  you. 
I  am  willing  to  forget  your  abuse,  and  to  thank  you  for 


254  THE   MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

having  watched  over  my  childhood.  That  is  all  I  can  do. 
You  have  nearly  killed  me,  now  leave  me." 

M.  de  Cazalis  understood  that  he  had  gone  too  far.  He 
•was  afraid  that  his  niece  might  guess  the  reason  of  his 
anger.  This  thought  troubled  him  and  suddenly  calmed 
his  irritation.  He  could  not,  however,  resist  speaking  to 
her  on  a  dangerous  subject. 

"  There  are  accounts  between  us,"  he  stammered,  "which 
must  be  settled." 

"Do  not  let  us  talk  of  that,"  Blanche  answered  excitedly. 
<(  I  have  neither  the  strength  nor  the  inclination  to  busy 
myself  with  such  matters.  As  I  have  told  you,  I  am 
•dead  to  the  world.  I  shall  require  nothing  in  the  future. 
As  to  my  son,  he  will  apply  to  you  later  on,  and  set  forth 
his  claims  if  he  chooses  to  do  so.  I  have  left  his  interests 
in  honest  hands.  Only  I  must  warn  you  that  those  of 
whom  you  spoke  so  brutally  a  little  while  ago,  are  decided 
on  acting,  in  case  you  oppose  my  wishes.  Now  for  mercy's 
sake  leave  me." 

Blanche  fell  back  on  the  pillow  satisfied  at  having 
•conquered,  and  went  to  sleep  peacefully. 

M.  de  Cazalis  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then,  finding 
nothing  to  add,  withdrew.  The  misfortune  that  had  just 
happened  was  irreparable,  but  he  still  preferred  peril  in 
the  distance  to  an  immediate  explanation.  Children  do 
not  grow  up  in  a  day,  and  he  calmed  his  feelings  of 
uneasiness,  with  the  thought  that  he  would  have  plenty 
•of  time  to  set  his  house  in  ord-er.  Later  on,  when  the 
mother  had  taken  the  veil,  he  could  institute  a  search  for 
the  son  and  obtain  possession  of  him.  He  knew  Philippe 
had  fled  to  Italy,  and  he  concluded  from  that  that  the 
new-born  babe  had  been  handed  to  the  fugitive's  brother. 
It  was,  therefore,  against  Marius  that  he  thought  of  direct- 
ing his  operations. 

In  the  meanwhile  he  went  to  Paris  to  fulfil  his  duties 
•as  deputy.  He  thus  avoided  acting  rashly  and  could 
consider,  at  leisure,  the  plan  he  proposed  to  pursue. 


BLANCHE   BIDS   FAREWELL   TO   THE   WORLD.       255 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN   WHICH   BLANCHE   BIDS   FAREWELL   TO  THE 
WORLD. 

BLANCHE  was  three  weeks  in  bed  between  life  and  death. 
The  great  strain  her  nerves  had  undergone  on  the  evening 
her  child  was  born,  brought  on  a  fever  which  nearly 
carried  her  off.  During  these  three  weeks  of  agony  Abbe 
Chastanier  and  Fine  were  at  her  bedside. 

M.  de  Cazalis  on  leaving,  had  dismissed  Madame  Lambert 
who  was  henceforth  useless,  and  the  cottage  was  once 
more  open  to  the  flower-girl.  There  was  no  guardian  to 
watch  the  invalid,  her  uncle  having  been  contented  to 
place  her  in  the  hands  of  the  old  priest,  in  the  sincere 
hope  that  on  his  return  to  Marseilles,  he  would  find  her 
buried  in  some  convent. 

Blanche,  little  by  little  recovered.  The  tender  and 
devoted  care  of  which  she  was  made  the  object,  the  bitter, 
healthy  sea  breeze  that  came  in  freely  at  her  windows, 
obliged  her  to  live  in  spite  of  her  secret  desire  to  die, 
and  thus  leave  the  world  where  she  had  already  suffered 
so  much  pain.  When  the  doctor  told  her  she  was  saved, 
she  turned  her  great,  sad,  invalid's  eyes  towards  Fine,  and 
said  to  her  with  a  feeble  smile : 

"I  should  have  been  so  comfortable  in  the  earth!  But 
it  was  not  to  be.  I  must  continue  suffering." 

"Please  not  to  go  on  like  that!"  exclaimed  the  young 
girl.  "  The  dead  feel  cold  in  the  earth,  you  may  be  sure ! 
Love,  do  good,  and  you  will  have  a  long  life  of  happiness 
before  you !  " 

And  she  passionately  kissed  Mademoiselle  dc  Cazalis, 
who  answered  in  a  softer  tone : 

"  You  are  right,  I  forgot  that  I  could  work  to  lessen 
the  misery  of  the  unfortunate,  and  thus  secure  some  com- 
fort for  myself." 

The  period  of  convalescence  was  not  long.  Blanche 
was  soon  able  to  get  up  and  drag  herself  to  the  window. 
There  she  passed  her  time  in  a  consoling  contemplation 


256  THE    MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

of  the  great  sea  which  spread  out  in  its  apparent  infinity 
before  her.  All  invalids  should  go  and  get  cured  beside 
the  blue  waters  of  the  Mediterranean,  for  its  calm  immensity 
has  a  tranquil  majesty  about  it  that  appeases  pain. 

It  was  on  a  clear  morning,  beside  the  open  window, 
with  her  eyes  lost  on  the  bluish  horizon,  that  Blanche 
spoke  out  plainly  to  Abbe  Chastanier  of  her  firm  intention 
to  take  the  veil. 

"My  father,"  she  said,  "I  am  gaining  strength  every 
day,  and,  as  the  life  of  this  world  is  not  suitable  for  me, 
I  desire,  as  soon  as  I  am  well,  that  my  first  steps  may 
take  me  to  God." 

"My  daughter,"  answered  the  priest,  "this  decision  is 
a  grave  one.  Before  binding  yourself  with  everlasting 
bonds,  I  ought  to  remind  you  of  the  good  things  you  are 
leaving " 

"It  is  useless,"  interrupted  the  young  woman,  excitedly, 
"my  resolution  is  irrevocable.  You  are  familiar  with  all 
the  reasons  that  urge  me  to  affiance  myself  to  Heaven. 
You,  yourself,  have  pointed  divine  love  out  to  me  as  the  only 
refuge  against  the  human  love  by  which  I  have  been 
crushed.  Do  not  treat  me  as  a  child,  I  beg  of  you :  look 
on  me  as  a  woman  who  has  suffered  a  great  deal  and 
desires  to  atone  for  her  cowardice.  Confess  it,  my  father, 
there  are  no  earthly  advantages  comparable  to  the  tran- 
quillity of  one's  spirit,  and,  if  I  succeed  in  tasting  the 
joys  of  pardon,  I  shall  not  regret  the  mundane  satisfaction 
to  which  I  renounce  so  willingly.  Do  not  prevent  me 
going  to  God." 

Abbe  Chastanier  bowed  his  head.  Blanche  spoke  in  such 
a  deep  and  troubled  voice  that  he  understood  heavenly 
grace  had  touched  this  poor  child,  and  that  it  would  be 
wrong  to  deprive  her  of  the  sweets  of  abnegation. 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  raise  a  discussion  as  to  my  resolu- 
tion," continued  the  convalescent,  in  a  calmer  voice.  "  I 
desired  to  consult  you  as  to  the  religious  order  I  ought 
to  choose.  As  I  told  you,  I  feel  strong,  and  in  a  week 
I  must  leave  this  beach,  every  rock  on  which,  reminds  me 
of  my  short  life  of  grief  and  passion." 

"  I    have    already    reflected    on    the   choice   you  might 


BLANCHE   BIDS  FAREWELL   TO   THE   WORLD.       257 

make,"  answered  the  priest,  "and  I  have  thought  of  the 
Carmelite  order. 

"  Are  not  the  Carmelites  cloistered  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  lead  a  contemplative  life,  they  kneel  to 
God  and  implore  him  to  pardon  the  world.  They  are 
the  daughters  of  ecstasy.  Your  place  is  among  them. 
You  are  weak,  you  need  to  forget,  to  place  an  impene- 
trable barrier  between  you  and  your  youth.  I  advise  you 
to  shut  yourself  up  in  the  innermost  recesses  of  the 
cloister,  far  from  mankind,  and  to  live  in  earnest  prayer 
full  of  forgiveness  and  celestial  peace." 

Blanche  gazed  at  the  great  sea.  The  priest's  words 
had  brought  tears  to  her  eyes.  After  a  silence  she  mur- 
mured, as  if  speaking  to  herself: 

"  No,  no,  it  would  be  cowardice  to  seek  for  calm  in 
that  way,  to  slumber  in  ecstasy.  It  would  be  a  sort  of 
divine  egotism  and  I  will  have  none  of  it.  I  wish  to  earn 
my  pardon  by  working  with  my  hands  and  heart  for  the 
good  of  the  unfortunate.  If  I  cannot  watch  over  my 
child,  I  will  watch  over  those  children  of  poor  mothers  who 
are  without  bread.  I  feel  that  at  such  a  sacrifice  only, 
shall  I  be  happy." 

There  was  another  silence ;  then  taking  the  abbe's  hand 
and  gazing  in  his  face,  she  added : 

"  My  father  can  you  procure  my  admission  among  the 
sisters  of  Saint  Vincent  de  Paul,  those  whom  they  term 
the  sisters  of  the  poor  ?  " 

Abbe  Chastanier  protested,  saying  she  was  too  delicate, 
that  she  would  not  be  able  to  stand  up  against  the  fatigue 
that  these  saintly  creatures  endure  in  the  hospitals,  orphan- 
ages, everywhere  where  there  are  services  to  be  rendered 
to  the  suffering  and  forlorn. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed  !  "  exclaimed  Blanche,  in  a  transport 
of  self-sacrifice,  "I  shall  be  strong  in  order  to  earn  my 
forgiveness.  I  can  only  accept  the  chalice  of  labour.  If 
I  do  not  make  myself  useful  I  shall  never  forget.  I  have 
a  last  request  to  make  to  you :  let  me  be  placed  in  an 
orphanage;  I  shall  fancy  mvsclf  the  mother  of  all  those 
little  creatures  entrusted  to  my  care,  I  will  cherish  them 
as  I  would  have  mv  own  child." 


258  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

She  wept;  she  spoke  with  such  transports  of  affection 
that  Abbe  Chastanier  was  obliged  to  give  way.  He  pro- 
mised to  take  the  necessary  steps,  and  a  few  days  later 
he  announced  to  Blanche  that  her  wishes  would  be  realized. 
Besides,  he  considered  the  young  woman's  decision  very 
natural:  her  spirit  which  was  full  of  blind  devotion,  had 
been  formed  to  understand  extreme  abnegation.  He  wrote 
to  M.  de  Cazalis  who  answered  him  in  terms  of  perfect 
indifference,  that  his  niece  was  free,  and  that  whatever 
she  decided  on  would  be  satisfactory.  At  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  he  was  delighted  to  see  her  enter  a  poor  and 
modest  Order  that  was  not  so  rapacious  for  dowries  as 
some  of  the  others. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  preceding  that  on  which 
Mademoiselle  de  Cazalis  was  to  leave  the  cottage,  she 
appeared  quite  uneasy  and  embarrassed  in  Abbe  Chas- 
tanier's  presence.  Fine,  who  was  there,  pressed  her  with 
questions  as  to  the  cause  of  this  sudden  sadness.  She  ended 
by  falling  on  her  knees  before  the  priest  and  saying  to 
him  in  a  trembling  voice : 

"  My  father,  I  am  not  yet  dead  to  the  pleasures  of  this 
world.  I  should  like  to  see  my  son  for  the  last  time, 
before  belonging  entirely  to  God." 

The  abbe  hastened  to  raise  her  from  the  ground. 

"  Go,"  he  answered  her,  "  go  where  your  heart  calls 
you,  and  learn  that  you  do  not  offend  Heaven  by  giving 
way  to  your  tenderness.  Heaven  loves  those  who  love. 
That  is  all  the  Christian  doctrine." 

Blanche  who  was  quite  troubled,  hastened  to  get  ready. 
Fine  was  to  take  her  to  her  child  and  both  of  them  soon 
went  out.  From  the  day  the  infant  had  been  born,  they 
had  both  avoided  speaking  of  the  poor  little  creature. 
The  flower-girl  had  simply  set  the  young  mother's  mind 
easy  by  saying  he  was  in  safety,  and  well,  and  had  all 
possible  care. 

When  Fine  and  Marius  found  themselves  in  possession 
of  the  new-born  babe,  they  returned  in  the  cabriolet 
to  Marseilles.  The  next  morning  they  played  a  most 
audacious  game  by  taking  the  child  to  Saint  Barnabe, 
and  giving  him  to  the  wife  of  the  gardener  Ayasse, 


BLANCHE   BIDS   FAREWELL   TO   THE  WORLD.   259 

thinking  that  M.  de  Cazalis  would  never  seek  him  there. 

It  was  to  Saint  Barnabe,  then,  that  Fine  took  Blanche. 
When  the  latter  caught  sight  of  the  gardener's  cottage, 
with  the  great  mulberry  trees  spreading  their  branches 
before  the  entrance ;  when  she  saw  the  stone  bench  on 
which  she  had  been  seated  with  Philippe,  all  the  past 
flew  back  to  her  memory,  and  she  burst  out  sobbing. 

Barely  a  year  had  gone  by,  and  yet  it  seemed  as  if 
centuries  of  suffering  separated  the  hour  of  her  first  love 
from  the  present.  She  could  still  see  herself  hanging 
round  her  lover's  neck,  without  a  care  and  hoping  for  a 
future  full  of  happiness.  And,  at  the  same  time,  she  saw 
herself  disconsolate,  her  heart  bleeding,  so  broken  that 
she  was  on  the  point  of  renouncing  the  pleasures  of  her 
eighteen  summers.  She  was  choking  with  intense  bitterness 
when  she  reflected  that  a  few  months  had  sufficed  to 
take  her  from  those  hopes  of  happiness  which  are  burning 
in  the  hearts  of  all  young  girls  to  the  dark  thoughts  of 
remorse  which  weigh  on  the  minds  of  penitents. 

Blanche  had  come  to  a  standstill  before  the  gardener's 
door,  trembling  with  emotion,  not  daring  to  enter,  fearing 
to  meet  Philippe's  ghost  in  this  cottage  where  he 
had  fondled  her.  Fine,  who  perceived  her  trouble,  dis- 
pelled her  fright  and  calmed  the  fever  of  her  memory  by 
calmly  saying  to  her : 

"Come,  go  in.     You  will  find  your  son  there." 

Blanche  darted  into  the  house.  Her  son  she  thought, 
-would  defend  her  against  the  past.  As  soon  as  she  had 
taken  three  steps  in  the  first  room,  which  was  spacious, 
countrified,  and  full  of  smoke,  she  found  herself  before  a 
cradle.  She  bent  over  the  infant  who  was  sleeping  in  it 
and  contemplated  him  for  a  long  time  without  awakening 
him.  The  gardener's  wife  sealed  near  the  door,  was 
knitting  a  stocking  and  singing  a  sweet  slow  Provencal 
air,  in  an  undertone. 

Blanche  kissed  the  babe's  forehead  in  the  twilight. 
She  wept,  and  her  tears  awoke  the  child,  who  put  his 
little  arms  forward  with  a  vague  complaint.  The  mother 
felt  her  heart  fail  her.  Did  not  her  duty  call  her  to  this 
cradle  ?  Had  she  the  right  to  take  refuge  in  the  bosom 


260  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

of  God  ?  But  she  was  afraid  of  giving  way  to  a  yearning 
she  had  not  avowed,  to  mad  hopes.  Then  she  said  to 
herself  that  she  had  sinned  and  would  be  punished;  she 
thought  she  heard  a  voice  crying  to  her :  "  Your  punish- 
ment will  be,  to  be  deprived  of  the  caresses  of  your 
.child !  "  And  she  ran  away  sobbing,  after  having  covered 
the  face  of  the  little  creature  she  was  to  see  no  more,, 
with  kisses. 

Henceforth,  the  young  woman  was  dead  to  all  love,, 
but  that  of  God;  she  had  just  rent  in  twain  the  last  link 
that  attached  her  to  the  world.  This  final  crisis  freed  her 
of  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  She  became  all  spirit. 

On  returning  to  Marseilles  she  handed  Fine  the 
documents  establishing  the  identity  of  her  son,  and  the 
following  day  left  for  a  small  town  in  the  department  of 
the  Var,  where  she  entered  an  orphanage  in  accordance 
with  the  wish  she  had  expressed. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A   SPECTRE. 

Two  years  had  passed.  In  the  first  months  of  them 
Marius  married  Fine  and  took  a  small  flat  on  the  Cours 
Bonaparte.  M.  Martelly,  who  put  his  signature  to  the 
marriage  contract,  endowed  the  bridegroom  by  taking  him 
into  his  business ;  he  was  no  longer  a  clerk,  but  a  partner 
who  brought  his  intelligence  and  zeal  with  him  in  lieu  of 
capital.  Fine,  on  her  side,  left  her  kiosk  on  the  Cours 
Saint  Louis,  so  as  to  be  able  to  give  her  whole  attention 
to  her  household  ;  but  as  she  wished  to  continue  earning 
her  living  she  made  artificial  flowers  in  her  spare  moments, 
and  was  so  nimble  with  her  fingers  that  her  work  looked 
almost  natural.  Sometimes,  however,  when  people  com- 
plimented her  on  her  ability,  she  sighed,  thought  with 
regret  of  her  fresh,  sweet-smelling  nosegays  of  other  days, 
and  answered : 

"Ah!  but  if  you  saw  the  roses  of  the  good  God!" 
These   two   years    were  twenty-four  months  of  peaceful 
happiness.     The   young  household  lived  liked  birds  in  a 


A   SPECTRE.  261 

•warm,  secluded  nest  of  moss.  Days  followed  days,  one 
as  happy  as  the  other,  full  of  delightful  monotony,  and 
the  pair  would  have  liked  this  sort  of  life  to  go  on  for 
ever,  each  hour  bringing  back  to  them  the  same  kisses 
and  the  same  joys.  In  the  morning  Marius  left  for  his 
office;  Fine  placed  herself  before  her  small  table  twisting 
the  stalks,  crumpling  the  petals  and  deftly  producing 
delicate  muslin  flowers  with  her  agile  fingers.  Then  of  an 
evening  they  both  went  out  for  a  walk  along  the  noisy 
streets,  and  reached  the  sea-shore  near  Endoume.  They 
had  discovered  a  corner  among  the  rocks  there,  where 
they  seated  themselves  alone,  facing  the  blue  immensity; 
night  set  in,  and  they  gazed  with  emotion  at  the  great 
sea  which  had  betrothed  them  at  Saint  Henri,  in  the  old 
days.  It  was  thus  they  came  to  thank  it,  and  to  seek  in 
its  deep  voice  an  air  suitable  for  their  love.  When  they 
returned  the  bonds  of  their  affection  were  drawn  even 
closer  than  before. 

Every  Sunday  they  had  a  day  in  the  country  which 
was  spent  at  Saint  Barnabe,  setting  out  in  the  early 
morning  and  returning  late  at  night.  The  visit  they  paid 
to  the  child  of  Blanche  and  Philippe,  was  a  sort  of  pil- 
grimage for  them;  but,  apart  from  that,  they  enjoyed  them- 
selves there  under  the  mulberry  trees  at  the  door.  The 
warm  country  air  filled  them  with  lively  gaiety,  they  had 
-enormous  appetites  and  recovered  all  the  turbulency  of 
youth.  Whilst  he  talked  to  the  gardener  she  gambolled 
on  the  floor  with  the  baby,  amid  peals  of  laughter  and  all 
sorts  of  charming  foolishness. 

In  accordance  with  the  desire  expressed  by  Blanche, 
they  had  acted  as  godfather  and  godmother  to  her  son 
and  had  given  him  the  name  of  Joseph.  When  Joseph 
-called  the  young  woman:  "Mamma",  she  sighed  and 
clasped  him  in  her  arms  for  she  loved  him  as  if  she  had 
really  been  his  mother. 

Joseph  was  growing  up,  charming  and  refined,  like  a 
child  of  love.  He  could  already  walk  alone,  and  lisp  a 
few  words  in  that  delightful  prating  of  the  baby  age.  For 
the  moment,  Marius  and  Fine  confined  themselves  to 
loving  him  fondly,  later  on  they  would  sec  to  making  a 


262  THE  MYSTERIES  OF    MARSEILLES. 

man  of  him,  they  said,  and  to  assuring  him  the  position 
to  which  he  was  entitled.  But  the  young  household  were 
not  so  wrapped  up  in  their  own  enjoyment  as  to  forget 
the  fugitive,  that  poor  Philippe  who  was  living  alone  and 
disconsolate  in  Italy.  His  brother  had  been  taking  active 
steps  to  obtain  his  pardon  so  that  he  might  return  to 
Marseilles  and  begin  life  again,  a  life  of  work.  Unfortu- 
nately the  obstacles  were  numerous,  and  he  encountered 
a  stubborn  resistance  that  put  his  most  energetic  efforts 
to  naught.  However,  he  did  not  despair  of  success,  and 
felt,  even,  sure,  that  one  day  or  other,  he  would  attain 
his  end. 

In  the  meantime  he  confined  himself  to  exchanging  a 
few  letters  with  Philippe,  urging  him  to  be  courageous,  and 
above  all  not  to  give  way  to  his  craving  to  return  to 
France.  If  he  were  guilty  of  that  imprudence  all  might 
be  lost.  Philippe  answered  that  he  was  at  the  end  of  his 
tether  and  was  dying  of  weariness.  This  despair  and 
impatience  alarmed  Marius  who  went  so  far  as  to  invent 
untruths  to  keep  the  fugitive  in  exile.  He  promised  him 
he  would  have  his  pardon  in  a  month,  then  when  the 
month  was  at  an  end,  he  assured  him  it  would  certainly 
be  for  the  following  month,  and  for  more  than  a  year  he 
had  in  this  way  made  him  take  patience. 

One  Sunday  evening,  just  as  Fine  and  Marius  had 
returned  from  Saint  Barnabe,  their  neighbours  informed 
them  that  a  man  had  called  to  see  them  several  times  in 
the  course  of  the  afternoon.  As  they  were  retiring  for 
the  night,  after  having  vainly  endeavoured  to  think  who 
this  strange  visitor  could  be,  they  heard  a  slight  knock 
at  their  door.  Marius,  who  opened  it,  was  stupefied. 

"  What,  you !  "  he  exclaimed  in  despair. 

Fine  hastened  to  join  him,  and  recognised  Philippe 
who,  after  having  embraced  them  both,  answered : 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,  I  should  have  died  over  there.  I  was 
obliged  to  return  at  any  price." 

"  What  folly !  "  continued  Marius,  quite  upset.  "  I  was 
certain  of  your  pardon.  But  now  I  will  not  answer  for 
anything." 

"Go    along  with  you!     I  will  keep  in  hiding  until  you 


A   SPECTRE.  263 

have  succeeded.  I  could  not  live  away  from  you,  from 
my  child  any  longer.  I  was  absolutely  ill." 

"  But  why  not  have  advised  me  ?  I  would  have  taken 
some  precautions'." 

"Ah!  But  if  I  had  told  you  of  my  intention,  you 
would  have  persuaded  me  not  to  return  to  Marseilles. 
I  have  done  a  headstrong  thing,  but  you  who  are  a 
sensible  man,  will  repair  everything;"  and,  turning  to  Fine, 
he  said  eagerly : 

"How  is  my  little  Joseph?" 

Then  the  danger  the  fugitive  ran  was  forgotten.  After 
the  surprise  and  dissatisfaction  of  the  first  few  moments 
came  the  unbosoming  of  their  hearts,  a  long  affectionate 
conversation  which  was  prolonged  until  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  Philippe  related  his  misfortunes  and  sufferings 
in  exile.  Here  and  there  he  had  given  French  lessons 
for  a  livelihood,  avoiding  staying  long  in  any  one  place, 
and  living  alone  and  unknown. 

When  he  had  related  in  detail  all  he  had  gone  through, 
his  brother,  who  was  deeply  moved,  avoided  reproaching 
him  with  his  return;  on  the  contrary,  he  racked  his  brain 
to  find  a  means  of  hiding  him  at  Marseilles,  so  that  he 
could  await  his  pardon  and  be  near  his  child. 

Marius,  first  of  all,  insisted  on  Philippe  being  shaved, 
a  performance  that  completely  changed  the  young  man's 
appearance.  Then  he  made  him  dress  in  a  coarse  suit 
of  clothes,  and  found  a  place  for  him  as  stevedore  with 
Cadet,  his  wife's  brother,  who  had  succeeded  Sauvairc. 

It  was  understood  that  Cadet  would  allow  Philippe  to 
loiter  about  the  port,  without  making  him  do  any  work. 
But  after  the  second  day  the  improvised  stevedore  begged 
for  some  employment  to  help  him  to  pass  his  time,  and 
he  was  placed  at  the  head  of  a  squad  of  workers. 

Things  remained  thus  for  several  months,  Marius 
expecting,  from  day  to  day,  to  obtain  his  brother's  liberty. 
As  to  Philippe  he  was  quite  happy.  Every  evening,  he 
went  to  Saint  Barnabe  and  the  pleasure  he  found  there, 
playing  with  his  son,  helped  him  to  forget  his  troubles. 

He  had  already  been  a  year  at  Marseilles,  when  one 
evening  on  reaching  the  gardener's  cottage  he  fancied  he 


264  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

saw  a  tall,  thin  man  behind  him  who  had  been  following 
him  from  the  port,  but  little  Joseph's  merry  welcome 
soon  made  him  forget  the  incident.  Had  he  turned  his 
head  the  next  day,  he  would  have  found  the  same  tall, 
thin  man  following  and  watching  him  again. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
M.    DE   CAZALIS   YEARNS   FOR  JOSEPH. 

DURING  the  three  years  that  had  elapsed  since  the  birth 
of  the  son  of  Blanche  and  Philippe,  important  changes 
had  taken  place  in  the  existence  of  M.  de  Cazalis.  He 
had  not  been  re-elected  deputy  at  the  last  elections  and 
had  come  to  reside  at  Marseilles.  His  defeat,  due  to  the 
unpopularity  he  had  earned  among  the  people,  owing  to 
his  quarrels  with  the  Cayols,  did  not  seem  to  affect  him 
a  great  deal.  The  truth  was  that  he  preferred  attending 
to  his  own  affairs  rather  than  to  those  of  his  country;  he 
had  enough  cares  at  home,  enough  work  to  do  to  parry 
the  blows  with  which  he  was  threatened,  without  troubling 
himself  with  a  mandate  that  would  rivet  him  to  Paris  for 
several  months  in  the  year. 

He  took  up  his  abode  at  his  mansion  on  the  Cours 
Bonaparte  and  acted  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  him- 
self forgotten  by  the  whole  city.  He  gave  up  going  out 
in  his  carriage  and  splashing  the  peaceful  tradesmen;  he 
did  his  best  to  pass  unperceived,  and  succeeded  so  well 
that  in  a  short  time  he  was  quite  unknown  to  most  people. 
His  dream  was  to  secure  his  peace  of  mind  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  then  proceed  to  Paris  and  devour  his  niece's 
fortune  in  grand  style. 

If  he  led  the  sad  and  retired  life  that  he  did,  it  was 
because  his  instinct  of  prudence  urged  him  to  study  the 
position  and  secure  immunity,  before  laying  a  finger  on 
what  did  not  belong  to  him.  He  had  a  mad  desire  to 
satisfy  himself  at  once,  but  was  afraid.  He  was  willing 
enough  to  despoil  Blanche,  on  condition  he  would  never 
be  branded  as  a  thief. 


M.    DE   CAZALIS  YEARNS   FOR  JOSEPH.  265 

When  he  had  succeeded  in  being  forgotten,  when  he  was 
shut  up  in  his  mansion  like  a  simple  bourgeois,  fond  of 
retirement  and  silence,  he  planted  his  batteries.  He  found 
himself  in  the  centre  of  the  intrigue  he  meant  to  direct, 
and  was  in  hopes  that  by  his  nonchalant  attitude  he  had 
dispelled  the  distrust  of  his  adversaries.  At  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  his  most  ardent  desire  was  to  discover  the 
whereabouts  of  his  niece's  boy  and  obtain  possession  of 
him.  Then  only  would  he  be  able  to  grasp  the  fortune 
that  was  lying  idle  in  his  hands.  But,  by  an  effort  of 
hypocrisy,  he  was  able  to  restrain  himself  for  nearly  three 
years;  he  remained  quiet,  without  appearing  to  take  any 
steps  to  find  out  where  his  great  nephew  was  hidden; 
and,  in  reality,  he  did  not  risk  a  single  attempt,  being 
faithful  to  his  plan  of  feigned  indifference. 

The  result  of  this  comedy  was  to  tranquillize  Marius. 
The  young  man  had  imagined  that  the  day  after  the  babe 
had  been  carried  off,  M.  de  Cazalis  would  have  flown 
into  a  rage,  scoured  Marseilles  and  searched  everywhere 
else  to  find  him.  He  was  first  of  all  very  much  surprised 
at  the  indifference  of  Blanche's  uncle  and  suspected  that 
it  served  to  hide  some  trap.  Then,  little  by  little,  his 
suspicions  were  dispelled  and  he  dozed  away  in  happy 
confidence,  until  at  length  he  thought  no  more  of  this 
man  who  was  hiding  in  obscurity,  in  order  to  watch  his 
prey  the  better. 

If  M.  de  Cazalis  was  patient  and  made  no  researches, 
it  was  because  he  knew  the  Cayols  could  not  make  use 
of  the  child  against  him  for  some  time.  He  permitted 
them  to  bring  it  up,  counting  on  stealing  it  when  it  became 
dangerous  to  leave  it  in  their  hands.  So  long  as  Philippe 
did  not  return  to  France,  so  long  as  his  son  had  not 
attained  a  certain  age,  Marius  had  his  hands  tied;  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  create  a  scandal  that  might  turn 
against  his  own  brother. 

To  tell  the  truth  M.  dc  Cazalis  placed  great  reliance 
on  the  upright  and  just  mind  of  Marius,  in  order  to  bring 
his  own  affairs  to  a  happy  issue:  he  said  to  himself  that 
the  young  man  would  never  venture  to  compromise 
Blanche,  and  that  he  would  sooner  abandon  the  fortune 


266  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

than  do  so.  In  any  case,  he  had  at  least  five  years 
tranquillity  before  him. 

But  if  he  relied  on  the  virtues  of  Marius,  he  was  in 
absolute  terror  when  he  thought  of  Philippe.  He  felt 
that  if  he  ever  fell  into  the  latter's  hands  he  would  meet 
with  no  mercy.  He  knew  the  violence,  the  energetic 
nature  of  the  fugitive,  and  considered  him  a  man  who 
would  stop  at  nothing  when  it  was  a  question  of  satis- 
fying a  hatred  or  a  vengeance.  So  lie  took  certain  pre- 
cautions to  shelter  himself  from  that  hatred  in  case 
Philippe  returned  to  France.  He  earnestly  desired  to  see 
him  commit  that  imprudence ;  and,  rather  for  the  pleasure 
of  having  him  arrested,  than  to  escape  his  vindictiveness, 
he  employed  a  certain  Matheus,  a  rascal  who  was  devoted 
to  him,  to  go  to  Italy  and  keep  at  the  young  man's  heels 
so  as  to  return  with  him  in  case  he  took  it  into  his  head 
to  embark. 

The  spy  acquitted  himself  faithfully  of  his  mandate.  He 
found  Philippe  at  Genoa  and  from  that  moment  never  left 
him.  When  the  latter  returned  to  Marseilles,  Matheus 
was  on  the  same  steamer,  but  by  chance  lost  sight  of  him 
during  the  confusion  of  landing,  and  he  had  to  inform 
his  employer  of  the  presence  of  his  enemy  in  the  city, 
without  being  able  to  tell  him  where  he  was  in  hiding. 

When  M.  de  Cazalis  learned  that  Philippe  was  at  Mar- 
seilles he  felt  extremely  uneasy,  not  that  he  feared  imme- 
diate and  direct  vengeance,  but  because  he  imagined  the 
young  man  would  obstinately  pursue  him  and  make  him 
disgorge.  He  desired  his  return  to  France,  but  on  con- 
dition that  he  might  know  his  hiding-place,  and  hand 
him  over  to  the  police  the  day  after  his  arrival.  But  as 
he  had  escaped  his  vigilance,  he  imagined  he  was  hover- 
ing round  him  and  preparing  pitfalls  beneath  his  feet. 

He  lived  for  a  year  in  perpetual  anxiety.  He  watched 
Marius  to  no  purpose,  ordered  Matheus  to  follow  him 
everywhere,  but  failed  to  find  Philippe,  for  the  two 
brothers  had  agreed  that  they  would  not  meet  until  the 
pardon  had  been  granted  and  they  could  shake  hands 
without  fear.  Besides,  Philippe  appeared  so  different  in  his 
coarse  garments  of  a  stevedore,  with  his  sunburnt  hands 


M.    DE   CAZALIS   YEARNS   FOR  JOSEPH.          267 

and  face  that  Matheus  passed  several  times  close  to  him 
without  recognising  him. 

M.  cle  Cazalis,  who  did  not  wish  to  take  the  police  into- 
his  confidence,  without  having  prepared  a  certain  capture, 
was  in  despair  at  his  spy's  want  of  success.  He  sent  him 
throughout  Marseilles  daily,  making  him  promises  that 
were  each  time  more  tempting,  spurred  on  by  the  dread 
of  seeing  the  steps  he  knew  Marius  was  taking  to  obtain 
his  brother's  pardon,  successful. 

One  day  M.  de  Cazalis,  who  had  gone  down  to  the 
port,  mingled  with  a  crowd  that  had  assembled  round  a 
wounded  man.  He  ascertained  that  it  was  a  stevedore 
whose  foot  had  been  crushed  under  an  enormous  case  of 
goods.  As  he  went  nearer  to  him  he  caught  sight  of  another 
stevedore  who  was  beside  the  poor  fellow,  giving  orders. 
This  man's  quick  movements  and  loud  voice  made  him  start. 
He  had  only  heard  Philippe's  voice  once,  at  the  time  of 
the  trial,  and  it  had  ever  since  been  ringing  in  his  ears. 

He  returned  home  in  all  haste  and  calling  Matheus, 
gave  him  detailed  instructions.  He  was  to  make  sure  of  this 
man's  identity,  to  follow  him  for  two  or  three  days  so  as 
to  ascertain  what  his  habits  were  and  the  places  he  fre- 
quented. The  pursuit  commenced  next  morning. 

The  plan  M.  de  Cazalis  had  formed,  was  as  simple  as- 
it  was  clever.  He  meant  to  bring  down  two  birds  at 
one  shot.  He  wished  to  kiss  his  little  great-nephew,  he 
thought  he  had  left  him  long  enough  with  the  Carols,  and 
desired  in  his  turn  to  have  him.  To  find  the  child  and 
steal  him,  he-  determined  to  make  use  of  his  father. 
Philippe,  he  felt  convinced,  paid  frequent  visits  to  his  son: 
therefore  he  had  only  to  follow  him  to  discover  where  the 
little  one  was  concealed.  M.  de  Cazalis  calculated  that 
when  he  had  found  out  this  hiding-place,  it  would  be 
easy  to  have  his  enemy  arrested,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
to  take  possession  of  Blanche's  heir. 

Two  days  later  Matheus  informed  his  employer  that  the 
stevedore  was  indeed  Philippe  Cayol,  and  that  every  night 
he  went  to  the  cottage  of  a  gardener,  named  Ayasse,  at 
Saint  Barnabe  who  also  had  charge  of  a  child.  The  ex- 
deputy  understood  all,  and  smiled  in  triumph. 


2  68  THE   MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

"  At  what  hour  does  this  man  go  to  Saint  Barnabe  ?  " 
he  asked  Matheus. 

"  At  six  o'clock  in  the  evening, "  answered  the  latter, 
•"and  he  remains  there  until  nine  o'clock." 

"  Good.  Return  here  to-morrow  at  six.  I  will  give 
you  your  orders." 

The  next  day  M.  de  Cazalis  had  a  short  interview  with 
Matheus.  Then  they  set  out  for  Saint  Barnabe  which 
they  reached  at  seven  o'clock.  A  couple  of  gendarmes 
accompanied  them. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
"  OPEN,    IN   THE   NAME   OF   THE    LAW !  " 

PHILIPPE  had  been  leading  a  monotonous  sort  of  life  since 
he  had  been  in  hiding  at  Marseilles,  and  his  only  pleasure 
consisted  in  going  to  kiss  his  son  every  evening  at  Saint 
Barnabe. 

Marius,  out  of  prudence,  had  begged  him  to  wait,  to 
make  these  visits,  until  he  was  free,  for  he  felt  that  it  would 
have  been  better  for  father  and  son  to  be  separated  until 
the  time  came  when  they  could  see  each  other  without 
danger  to  either.  But  he  had  had  to  give  way  to  his 
brother's  urgent  entreaties;  and  he  tranquillized  his  mind 
by  thinking  M.  de  Cazalis  must  be  unaware  of  the  presence 
of  Philippe  and  his  son  at  Marseilles. 

The  condemned  man  who  visited  no  one,  not  even 
Marius,  went  every  evening  to  the  gardener's  cottage  and 
there  enjoyed  the  only  happy  hours  of  his  existence. 
Generally  as  soon  as  he  made  his  appearance,  the  gardener 
and  his  wife  took  advantage  of  his  arrival,  to  set  out 
•with  the  fruit  and  vegetables  they  grew,  for  Marseilles.  As 
he  was  alone  in  the  house  he  bolted  the  door  and  played 
•with  Joseph  like  a  child.  This  relieved  his  mind,  he  forgot 
the  past  and  present,  to  dream  of  a  happy  future.  When 
he  was  there  in  that  old  house  so  quiet  and  pleasant,  he 
forgot  he  was  a  condemned  man,  a  wretched  creature  whom 
a  gendarme  could  lead  back  handcuffed  to  the  city;  he 


"OPEN,   IN   THE  NAME   OF   THE   LAW!"        269 

fancied  himself  a  peasant,  a  labourer  who  had  cultivated 
the  land  all  day  and  was  resting  at  night.  These  serene 
hours  gave  him  fresh  strength  and  appeased  the  disagreeable 
fevers  that  sometimes  racked  his  frame.  No  one  would 
have  recognised  in  this  bowed-down  and  aged-looking 
man,  watching  over  a  child  like  a  devoted  wet-nurse,  the 
gay  and  wild  young  dandy  with  whose  amorous  adventures- 
all  Marseilles  had  been  busy  a  few  years  before.  Ah  I 
misfortune  is  a  hard  school ! 

On  the  evening  when  M.  de  Cazalis  and  Matheus  went 
to  Saint  Barnabe  accompanied  by  two  gendarmes,  Philippe 
had  reached  the  cottage,  as  usual,  at  about  six  o'clock. 
The  gardener  and  his  wife  were  waiting  to  take  a  cartload 
of  grapes  to  Marseilles.  As  soon  as  he  was  alone  he 
withdrew  into  the  room  on  the  ground  floor  and  shut 
himself  up.  Little  Joseph  was  not  in  a  mood  for  play : 
he  had  been  running  all  day  among  the  vines,  and  had 
fallen  asleep  on  a  sort  of  old  sofa  with  smiling  lips,  all 
stained  with  the  purple  juice  of  the  grape.  Philippe 
moved  about  on  tip-toe,  so  as  not  to  disturb  his  slumber, 
and  ended  by  seating  himself  opposite  to  him  and  watch- 
ing him  sleep  in  the  undefined  glimmer  of  the  falling 
twilight. 

He  remained  in  that  position  for  nearly  an  hour,  silent 
and  motionless,  listening  to  the  child's  light  breathing  and 
finding  immense  delight  in  gazing  on  him.  Two  great 
tears  which  he  did  not  feel,  trickled  down  his  cheeks. 

As  he  sat  there  lost  in  tender  ecstasy,  he  heard  a  sudden 
knock  at  the  door,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  hands  had 
fallen  on  his  shoulders  to  arrest  him.  The  violent 
resounding  blows  drew  him  from  his  dream.  He  returned 
from  his  wanderings  to  his  mother  earth,  and  passed  from 
his  oblivious  serenity,  to  the  terror  of  every  moment  of 
his  life.  There,  behind  the  door,  were  the  gendarmes. 

Half  erect  he  listened,  firmly  determined  not  to  open. 
He  was  in  the  habit  of  closing  the  door  every  evening 
to  make  believe  the  house  was  empty.  Little  Joseph 
continued  to  sleep,  rosy  and  smiling.  The  blows  redoubled, 
but  the  condemned  man  now  observed  that  they  were 
dealt  by  a  weak  and  impatient  hand.  At  the  same  moment 


270  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

he  heard  the  suffocating  voice  of  a  woman,  stammering 
out  in  terror : 

"  Open,  open  quickly,  for  the  love  of  God ! " 

He  seemed  to  recognise  the  voice  and  drew  back  the 
bolts. 

Fine  dashed  inside  at  a  bound,  out  of  breath  and 
fainting,  and  quickly  closed  the  door  after  her.  Then  for 
a  minute  she  stood  gasping,  with  her  hands  pressed  against 
her  heart  and  unable  to  speak. 

Philippe  gazed  on  her  with  astonishment.  She  had 
never  before  been  to  the  cottage  at  that  hour,  and  something 
very  serious  must  have  happened  for  her  to  have  risked 
such  a  visit,  which  was  compromising  for  her. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  inquired. 

"They  are  there,"  answered  Fine,  heaving  a  great  sigh, 
"  I  saw  them  on  the  road  and  began  running  across 
country  to  get  here  before  them." 

"  Who  do  you  mean  ?  " 

She  stared  at  him  as  if  surprised  at  his  inquiry. 

"Ah!  yes,"  she  answered,  "you  don't  know.  I  came 
to  tell  you  they  were  going  to  arrest  you  this  evening." 

"Arrest  me  this  evening!"  exclaimed  the  young  man, 
•drawing  himself  up  in  a  passion. 

"  This  afternoon,"  continued  the  former  flower-girl,  "Marius 
ascertained,  by  providential  chance,  that  M.  de  Cazalis 
had  applied  for  two  gendarmes  to  make  an  arrest  near 
Saint-Barnabe. " 

"Always,  always  that  man!" 

"  Then,  Marius  who  came  home  mad  with  grief,  sent 
me  off  here  to  take  the  child  and  beg  you  to  fly." 

Philippe  made  a  step  towards  the  door. 

"Eh!  no,"  exclaimed  the  young  woman,  in  despair,  "it 
is  too  late  now.  I  have  not  come  in  time.  I  tell  you 
they  are  there." 

Sobbing,  she  seated  herself  on  a  chair  near  little  Joseph, 
and  watched  him  sleeping,  feeling  quite  broken  down. 
Philippe  looked  round  the  room  in  search  of  an  issue. 

"And  no  means  of  safety!"  he  murmured.  "Ah!  I 
prefer  to  risk  all.  Give  me  the  child.  Night  is  falling 
and  I  shall  perhaps  have  time  to  escape." 


"OPEN,    IN   THE   NAME   OF   THE   LAW !  "        271 

He  stooped  down  to  take  Joseph,  when  Fine  seized 
hold  of  his  hands,  making  an  energetic  sign  to  him  to 
listen.  Then,  in  the  terrible  silence,  they  heard  the  sound 
of  footsteps  before  the  house,  and  almost  at  the  same 
moment  the  stocks  of  muskets  came  in  contact  with  the 
door,  whilst  a  stern  voice  shouted : 

"  Open,  in  the  name  of  the  law !  " 

Philippe  turned  ghastly  pale  and  slid  down  on  the 
sofa  beside  his  son. 

"All  is  lost,"  he  murmured. 

"Don't  open,"  said  Fine,  in  an  undertone.  "  Marius 
impressed  upon  me,  in  case  you  were  unable  to  fly,  that 
you  were  to  put  as  many  impediments  as  possible  to 
your  arrest,  so  as  to  gain  time." 

"Why  did  not  he  come  himself?" 

"  I  don't  know.  He  did  not  tell  me  what  his  plans 
were.  He  ran  off  on  his  side  while  I  took  a  fly  to  get  here." 

"  He  didn't  tell  you  if  he  would  come  and  give  us 
assistance  ?  " 

"  No.  I  repeat  he  is  mad  with  grief.  I  only  heard 
him  murmur :  '  I  hope  to  heaven  I  may  succeed.'  " 

At  that  moment,  the  stocks  of  the  muskets  were  heard 
knocking  more  violently  at  the  door  and  the  terrifying 
cry  resounded : 

"  Open,  in  the  name  of.  the  law !  " 

Fine  placed  her  finger  on  her  lips  to  tell  Philippe  to 
preserve  absolute  silence.  Each  blow,  each  word  made 
them  start  and  increased  their  alarm.  Little  Joseph  con- 
tinued sleeping  between  them,  but  in  an  uneasy  and 
agitated  slumber. 

The  gendarmes  had  already  been  knocking  and  shouting 
for  five  minutes,  and  in  the  end  one  of  them  said  to  M. 
de  Cazalis  that  the  cottage  appeared  empty,  and  they  had 
no  power  to  burst  open  the  door. 

"If  we  were  sure  your  man  was  inside,"  he  added, 
"  we  would  soon  send  the  lock  flying ;  but  we  cannot  run 
the  risk  of  such  a  thing,  with  the  chance  of  not  finding 
him  there." 

"The  man  is  certainly  there,"  exclaimed  Matheus,  "  I  saw 
him  enter." 


272  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  I  will  answer  for  everything,"  added  M.  de  Cazalis, 
"  I'd  be  responsible  for  what  you  do." 

The  two  gendarmes  shook  their  heads,  knowing  per- 
fectly well  that  they  alone  would  be  punished  if  they 
broke  into  a  house.  They  only  had  orders  to  arrest  the 
person  pointed  out  to  them  and  were  not  inclined  to  go 
beyond  their  instructions. 

M.  de  Cazalis  was  in  despair  at  their  irresolution  and 
at  seeing  them  unwilling  to  proceed  any  further,  when  a 
voice  was  heard  inside  the  dwelling. 

"Do  you  hear?"  he  said.  "You  can  see  the  house  is 
not  empty  and  that  our  man  is  within !  " 

It  was  little  Joseph  who  had  just  opened  his  eyes. 
Frightened  at  finding  himself  in  the  dark  and  at  the  sound 
of  loud  voices,  he  had  burst  out  crying.  Fine,  in  alarm, 
had  endeavoured  in  vain  to  quiet  him  with  kisses,  but 
unsuccessfully.  The  son  betrayed  the  father. 

The  gendarmes  knocked  again  and  shouted  out: 

"If  you  don't  open,  we'll  burst  in  the  door?" 

At  the  violent  blows  from  the  stocks  of  the  muskets 
against  the  wood,  Philippe  understood  that  the  door  would 
not  resist  for  very  long.  He  got  up  and  lit  the  lamp,  no 
longer  afraid  of  the  light  betraying  him.  Joseph  terrified 
by  the  battering  outside,  which  shook  the  whole  house, 
screamed  louder  than  ever,  and  Fine,  who  had  risen  and 
was  nursing  him  in  her  arms,  walked  backwards  and  for- 
wards in  despair,  powerless  to  calm  him. 

"Oh!  let  him  cry,"  Philippe  said  to  her.  "  They  know 
I  am  here  now." 

And  he  went  and  kissed  his  child,  murmuring  in  a 
broken  voice: 

"Poor  little  darling!  " 

As  he  looked  at  him  his  eyes  were  filled  with  great 
tears.  When  he  had  kissed  him  a  last  time,  he  quickly 
advanced  towards  the  door. 

Fine  stopped  him. 

"  What !  Are  you  going  to  open  to  them  ?  "  she  inquired 
in  agony. 

"Eh!  yes,"  he  answered.  "Don't  you  hear?  The 
wood's  giving  way  and  the  lock's  ready  to  fly  off.  Ayasse 


"OPEN,   IN  THE   NAME   OF   THE   LAW  !  "         273 

may  return  at  any  moment,  and  besides,  now  that 
flight  is  impossible,  I  won't  have  the  door  damaged  any 
further." 

"  For  pity's  sake,  wait  a  little  longer.  Let  us  gain 
time." 

"  Gain  time.     Why  ?     Isn't  it  all  up  ?  " 

"  No,  I've  faith  in  Marius.  He  impressed  on  me  to 
put  as  many  obstacles  as  possible  in  the  way  of  your 
arrest,  and  I  implore  you  to  conform  to  his  entreaty.  It 
is  a  question  of  your  own  safety." 

Philippe  shook  his  head. 

"  They  will  make  me  pay  dearly  for  every  minute's 
resistance,"  he  said.  "  It's  better  not  to  struggle  uselessly." 

Fine  saw  that  despair  had  transformed  him  into  a 
coward,  and  she  knew  not  what  to  say  to  instil  energy 
into  him.  All  at  once  she  had  an  idea  : 

"But,"  she  exclaimed,  "what  will  become  of  Joseph  ? 
As  soon  as  you  are  arrested,  these  men  will  take  him." 

The  young  man,  who  already  had  a  hand  almost  on  a 
bolt,  turned  round  pale  and  trembling  and  returned  to 
Fine's  side. 

"  Didn't  you  tell  me  Cazalis  was  there  with  the  gen- 
darmes?" he  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

He  turned  very  pale  again,  and  stammered  out  in  a 
choking  voice. 

"  Oh !  I  understand  it  all  now.  Wretched  egotist  that 
I  am,  I  was  only  thinking  of  my  own  safety  and  my 
child  was  in  greater  danger  than  myself!  You  are  right, 
they  only  come  to  arrest  me  here,  in  order  to  steal 
Joseph.  What  is  there  to  be  done?  Good  heavens!" 

At  that  moment  such  a  violent  blow  was  given  to  the 
door,  that  the  wood  cracked,  as  if  it  were  about  to  split 
in  two,  and  Philippe  gaxcd  round  about  him  bewildered. 

"No  issue!"  he  continued,  "and  in  a  few  moments 
the  door  will  be  broken  in.  What  can  be  done,  good 
heavens  !  to  escape  them  !  " 

The  blows  became  more  and  more  rcdoutablc.  One 
felt  that  the  gendarmes  were  becoming  furious  at  the 
long  resistance.  Philippe  remained  for  a  few  seconds  with 

18 


274  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

his  head  between  his  hands  trying  to  think,  to  discover  a 
means  of  escape.  Then,  in  a  low  and  rapid  voice  he  said : 

"I  am  of  your  opinion.  We  must  try  and  gain  time. 
Marius  has  always  been  my  guardian  angel." 

"  Let  us  barricade  the  door  with  the  furniture, "  exclaimed 
the  young  woman. 

"No,  that's  not  advisable.  Open  resistance  will  only 
hasten  on  events." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  then  ?  " 

"Open  the  door  and  give  myself  up.  But  before  doing 
so,  you  must  run  to  the  loft  with  Joseph,  and  hide  yourself 
as  well  as  possible ;  in  the  meanwhile  I  will  arrange  to  make 
the  details  of  my  arrest  last  as  long  as  I  can,  so  as  to 
give  my  brother  time  to  help  us." 

"  And  if  they  take  you  away  at  once,  and  if  I  am  left 
at  the  mercy  of  these  men?" 

"  Then  everything  will,  indeed,  be  against  us.  However, 
there  is  no  time  to  argue,  and  there  is  no  choice.  Do 
you  hear  ?  The  door  is  giving  way.  For  love  of  heaven 
hurry  upstairs  and  hide  yourself  well!  " 

He  pushed  Fine  towards  the  staircase;  then,  when  she 
had  disappeared  in  the  dark,  he  went  and  drew  back  the 
bolts. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
PARDON !      PARDON ! 

PHILIPPE  had  taken  the  precaution  of  putting  out  the 
lamp  before  opening  the  door,  and  the  gendarmes  who 
were  on  the  point  of  rushing  forward,  stopped  short  on 
the  threshold,  fearing  that  the  darkness  might  conceal 
some  snare.  Perhaps  the  trap  door  of  a  cellar  was  gaping 
open  before  them  or  perhaps  they  would  be  attacked  from 
behind,  as  soon  as  they  entered.  The  mass  of  darkness 
that  expanded  before  them  struck  terror  into  their  hearts. 

"We  must  have  a  light,"  one  of  them  murmured.  "We 
cannot  look  for  and  find  a  man  in  this  obscurity." 

"I  have  no  lucifer  matches  on  me,"  said  the  other. 


PARDON!  PARDON!  275 

M.  de  Cazalis  was  in  despair,  he  had  not  foreseen  this 
new  obstacle.  Night  was  like  an  impenetrable  wall  which 
•still  separated  him  from  Philippe. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

And  in  a  moment  of  anger,  he  gave  a  push  to  the 
gendarmes  who  thus  advanced  a  few  steps  into  the  room. 
Philippe  who  had  placed  himself  upright  against  the  wall 
at  the  entrance,  dashed  forward,  passed  behind  them  and 
found  himself  outside,  after  having  knocked  Matheus 
almost  over. 

"  Help  !  "  the  latter  yelled,  "  the  man's  escaping  !  " 

The  gendarmes  were  right  about  face  in  an  instant. 
The  young  man  had  come  to  a  standstill  at  a  few  yards 
from  the  house.  He  could  have  run  away,  but  he  thought 
no  longer  of  himself,  all  his  mind  was  taken  up  with  his 
•child.  If  he  had  put  out  the  lamp  and  pretended  to 
make  oil  it  was  merely  to  gain  time.  With  crossed  arms 
.and  disdainful  bearing,  he  said  in  a  loud  voice: 

"What  do  you  want  with  me?  Why  have  you  obliged 
me  to  open  the  door  ?  " 

The  gendarmes  had  sprung  forward  and  each  had 
seized  him  by  a  wrist. 

"Let  me  go,"  he  exclaimed,  with  violence.  "  You  can 
see,  very  weil,  I  am  giving  myself  up  voluntarily.  Had 
I  wished  to  escape  I  could  have  been  far  away  by  now. 
Speak,  what  do  you  want?" 

"We  have  orders  to  arrest  you,"  they  said,  taking  their 
hands  off  him  under  the  influence  of  the  imperious  tone 
of  his  voice. 

"Good,"  he  continued,  "  I  will  follow  you  when  you 
have  shewn  me  the  warrant  concerning  me.  Let  us  go  in." 

He  entered  the  room,  feigning  not  to  see  either  Matheus 
or  M.  de  Cazalis.  When  he  had  relit  the  lamp,  and  the 
former  deputy  and  his  instrument  appeared,  he  turned 
towards  the  gendarmes  and  said  in  a  mocking  voice : 

"Do  these  gentlemen  belong  to  the  police?" 

The  nobleman  received  the  phrase  right  in  the  face 
like  a  cut  from  a  whip.  He  was  conscious  of  the  un- 
worthy part  he  was  playing,  and  the  silent  anger  that 
had  been  raging  within  him  burst  out. 


276  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

"What  are  you  waiting  for?"  he  cried.  "Gag  the 
villain,  pinion  him.  Ah !  rascal,  so  I've  found  you,  and 
this  time  you'll  not  escape  me !  " 

He  was  foaming,  he  asked  for  the  handcuffs  to  put 
them  himself  on  the  prisoner.  The  latter  looked  at  him 
with  withering  contempt.  The  gendarmes  had  given  him 
the  warrant  that  had  been  issued  against  him  and  he 
was  reading  it  slowly,  seeking  an  excuse  for  delay.  In 
the  meanwhile,  Matheus  had  disappeared.  He  had  lit  a 
wax  taper  he  had  on  him  and  had  slipped  into  the  stair- 
case. He  was  going  to  execute  the  orders  of  M.  de 
Cazalis  who  had  promised  him  a  good  reward  if  he  suc- 
ceeded in  stealing  little  Joseph  amidst  the  confusion  of 
Philippe's  arrest. 

Matheus  was  a  prudent  man  who  did  nothing  lightly. 
For  two  days  he  had  been  studying  the  habits  at  the 
gardener's  house:  he  knew  that  the  latter  and  his  wife 
must  be  at  Marseilles,  and  he  calculated  in  his  mind 
that  Philippe,  hearing  the  gendarmes,  had  without  doubt 
hidden  his  son  in  a  room  above.  He  expected  to  find 
the  child  alone  and  to  be  able  to  take  him  without  diffi- 
culty. 

He  inspected  the  rooms  on  the  first  floor  and  found 
nothing.  He  burst  open  a  door  that  was  locked,  searched 
in  every  corner  and  acquired  the  certitude  that  Joseph 
was  not  there. 

Then,  he  decided  he  would  go  up  to  the  loft. 

The  door  only  closed  with  a  latch.  Matheus  opened 
it  and  advanced  a  few  steps  on  the  straw  which  went  up 
in  a  heap  to  the  tiles;  he  held  the  taper  high,  looked 
from  a  distance  in  all  the  corners,  not  daring  to  advance 
for  fear  of  setting  fire  to  the  place.  He  could  find  nothing. 
There  was  a  quantity  of  things  in  the  place  impossi- 
ble to  describe  in  detail :  old  caved-in  barrels,  agricultural 
implements  of  no  further  utility,  refuse  without  a  name, 
encumbering  the  flooring,  and  throwing  great  dark  shadows 
here  and  there. 

Matheus  thought  that  Philippe  could  not  have  hidden 
his  son  among  all  this  rubbish  covered  with  dust  and 
cobwebs,  and  did  not  pursue  his  search  further,  but  returned 


PARDON!  PARDON!  277 

to  the  first  floor,  where  he  made  another  minute  inspection. 
He  opened  the  articles  of  furniture,  pulled  up  the  curtains, 
looked  everywhere.  There  was  no  child.  Then  he  sat 
down  and  began  to  think.  The  rascal  was  in  the  habit 
of  reasoning  on  all  occasions,  and  of  always  acting  in 
accordance  with  the  strict  laws  of  logic. 

His  reasoning  was  short  and  his  conclusion  unanswer- 
able. He  had  heard  the  child  cry,  therefore  he  must  be 
in  the  house;  if  he  was  not  to  be  found  on  the  first  floor, 
he  must  naturally  be  in  the  loft.  He  had  no  doubt  made 
an  imperfect  search. 

He  returned  to  the  loft. 

As  soon  as  he  entered,  he  placed  his  taper  on  an  old 
watering-pot  so  as  not  to  set  fire  to  anything.  He  had 
thought  for  a  moment  of  lighting  the  straw  at  the  risk  of 
burning  the  place  down.  The  child  was  there  for  sure, 
and  he  had  a  vague  idea  that  M.  de  Cazalis  would  be 
delighted  at  the  poor  little  creature's  death.  He  had  only 
to  let  the  taper  fall  and  Blanche's  heir  would  be  roasted. 
But  he  was  afraid  of  displaying  too  much  zeal,  of  going 
beyond  his  instructions.  His  master  had  asked  for  the 
child  alive  and  he  couldn't  decently  take  it  to  him  dead. 

He  began  to  search  in  the  straw,  to  rummage  among 
the  old  barrels.  He  proceeded  slowly,  making  sure  no 
corner  escaped  him,  expecting  at  every  moment  to  put 
his  hand  on  a  warm  body. 

The  taper  placed  on  the  watering-pot,  cast  a  yellow, 
vacillating  light  over  the  loft  and  afforded  him  very  poor 
assistance  in  his  search.  When  he  had  reached  the  end 
of  the  loft,  he  suddenly  stopped,  hearing  the  sound  of 
restrained  breathing.  He  smiled  triumphantly.  The  noise 
came  from  a  sort  of  buttress  formed  by  trusses  of  hay 
piled  up  at  some  distance  from  the  wall. 

Matheus  stretched  forward  his  head  and  hands,  but 
when  he  had  cast  a  glance  into  the  hiding-place,  he 
brought  his  hands  down  beside  him  in  surprise.  Fine 
had  suddenly  risen  up  before  him,  holding  little  Joseph 
against  her  bosom.  The  child  was  fast  asleep  and  smil- 
ing in  his  slumber. 

For   nearly    a    quarter   of  an    hour   the  young  girl  had 


27 8  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

been  listening  to  the  smothered  tread  of  Matheus,  and 
during  that  time,  had  been  a  prey  to  most  terrible  anxiety. 
She  almost  betrayed  herself  when  he  appeared  in  the 
loft  the  first  time.  Then,  when  he  went  down,  she  breathed, 
thinking  herself  saved.  And  there  he  was  back  again, 
and  had  discovered  her!  She  was  lost,  he  was  about  to 
tear  Joseph  from  her  arms. 

Erect,  all  of  a  tremor,  determined  she  would  sooner 
be  assassinated  than  part  with  the  child,  she  stared  him 
in  the  face. 

Matheus  was  at  first  stupefied.  He  did  not  expect  to 
find  this  young  woman,  whom  he  did  not  know  and  who 
appeared  to  be  the  child's  mother.  Then,  the  wretch 
gave  a  smile  of  ill-omen.  After  all,  he  preferred  to  have 
to  deal  with  this  young  woman  than  with  Philippe.  With 
a  push  he  would  tumble  her  over  on  the  hay  and  easily 
take  the  child  from  her.  Fine  no  doubt  read  his  thoughts 
in  his  eyes,  for  she  put  her  back  against  the  wall  and 
stiffened  her  legs  ready  for  the  struggle. 

They  did  not  exchange  a  word.  The  taper  was  dimly 
burning.  He  stretched  out  his  hand,  she  closed  her  eyes, 
thinking  herself  already  dead,  when  a  sound,  increasing  as 
it  proceeded,  rose  from  the  room  where  Philippe  was  still 
with  the  gendarmes.  A  well-beloved  voice  which  the 
young  woman  recognised,  was  crying :  "  Pardon!  Pardon!  " 
amid  outbursts  of  joy  and  triumph. 

Fine  felt  her  courage  return. 

"Do  you  hear?"  she  asked  Matheus.  "Heaven  has 
come  to  our  assistance.  It's  for  you,  rascal,  that  the 
gendarmes  have  brought  the  handcuffs." 

Matheus  in  alarm,  forgot  Fine  and  the  child,  thinking 
only  of  his  safety.  He  ran  to  the  door  of  the  loft  and 
listened.  Then  he  began  thinking  where  he  could  fly  to 
in  case  things  took  an  unfavourable  turn. 

Down  below,  Philippe,  after  reading  the  warrant  for 
his  arrest,  had  to  give  himself  up  to  the  gendarmes.  He 
succeeded,  however,  in  delaying  his  departure  under 
pretence  that  he  could  not  quit  the  gardener's  house, 
without  leaving  him  a  few  words  of  explanation.  The 
truth  was  that  he  had  seen  Matheus  disappear  by  the 


PARDON!  PARDON!  279 

staircase  and  was  trembling  for  Fine  and  his  child.  He 
counted  no  longer  on  Marius,  he  simply  wanted  to  await 
the  gardener's  return  so  as  not  to  leave  the  house  at  the 
mercy  of  M.  de  Cazalis. 

The  gendarmes  allowed  him  to  write  a  few  lines  and 
then  told  him  he  must  set  out.  He  gazed  about  him  in 
despair  and  only  saw  the  ex-deputy  who  was  sneering. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  the  latter,  "so  you're  muzzled! 
You  won't  carry  off  any  more  heiresses,  you  won't  cause 
any  more  scandal  in  families.  Ah !  it'll  be  a  curious 
sight  to  see  the  gallant  Philippe  Cayol  fastened  to  the 
pillory !  " 

Philippe  did  not  answer — out  of  disdain  and  so  as  not 
to  be  tempted  to  smack  the  man  in  the  face.  Since  he 
had  been  there,  he  feigned  to  ignore  his  presence. 
Whilst  M.  de  Cazalis  insulted  him,  a  gendarme  put  on  the 
handcuffs. 

"  Off  we  go!  "  he  said. 

And  Philippe  was  obliged  to  advance  towards  the  door. 
He  felt  dreadful  agony  at  the  throat  and  almost  burst 
out  sobbing.  Just  at  that  moment,  as  the  door  was  open, 
a  joyful  shout  resounded  outside,  and  a  man  walked  in 
repeating:  "Pardon!  Pardon!" 

It  was  Marius.  Not  having  been  able  to  get  a  fly,  he 
had  run  all  the  way  from  Marseilles.  He  drew  a  paper 
from  beneath  his  dusty  clothes  and  presented  it  to  the 
gendarmes.  This  paper  announced  the  pardon  which  the 
King  had  granted  to  Philippe. 

The  document  had  been  promised  to  the  condemned 
man's  brother  for  more  than  a  month,  and  as  chance 
would  have  it,  it  arrived  at  the  very  moment  when  M. 
de  Cazalis  was  exerting  his  last  vestiges  of  influence  to 
prevail  on  the  authorities  to  act.  If  Marius  had  not 
proceeded  at  once  to  Saint  Barnabe  with  Fine,  it  was 
because  he  wanted  to  see  once  more  whether  the  pardon 
had  not  come  to  hand. 

The  gendarmes  read  the  all-powerful  letter  and  bowed 
before  it.  Their  errand  was  over:  it  onlv  remained  for 
them  to  withdraw.  M.  de  Ca/alis,  with  haggard  features, 
terrified  at  this  unforeseen  issue,  watched  them  leave 


280  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

with  anger,  as  if  they  had  been  working  for  the  liberty 
of  his  enemy.  He  was  thinking  in  the  folly  of  his 
despair,  whether  there  was  not  some  means  of  compelling 
them  to  take  Philippe  off  to  prison  in  spite  of  all.  Marius 
had  embraced  his  brother  on  entering,  Saying  to  him : 

"  You  are  free.     Heaven  be  praised  !  I've  come  in  time !  " 

And  Philippe  had  remained  for  a  moment  motionless, 
choking,  not  daring  to  understand.  Then  he  suddenly 
darted  upstairs.  He  had  just  thought  of  the  man  who 
had  gone  up  there  to  rob  him  of  his  son. 

Matheus  heard  the  sound  of  his  footsteps.  In  terror, 
understanding  that  he  was  threatened  with  danger,  he 
looked  rapidly  about  him  for  something  to  assist  him  in 
flight.  Hanging  from  a  pulley  before  the  window  of  the 
loft,  which  stood  wide  open,  was  a  piece  of  cord.  He 
grasped  it  at  the  risk  of  falling  and  slid  down,  almost 
falling  on  the  head  of  M.  de  Cazalis,  who  was  leaving 
with  an  oath  on  his  lips,  and  rage  in  his  heart. 

When  the  ex-deputy  saw  Matheus  without  the  child, 
he  almost  struck  him.  His  expedition  had  entirely  failed, 
he  had  not  secured  either  father  or  son. 

Fine,  rescued  from  the  brutality  of  Matheus,  hastened 
downstairs  with  Philippe  to  the  room  below.  And  there 
the  two  brothers  and  young  woman,  mad  with  joy,  smo- 
thered little  Joseph  with  kisses. 

"  Now,  we  are  strong !  "  exclaimed  Marius.  "  We  are 
no  longer  at  the  disadvantage  of  having  a  criminal  sentence 
hanging  over  our  heads,  and  can  work  openly  for  the 
happiness  of  this  child." 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE   INSURRECTION   OF   FEBRUARY,    1848. 

THE  two  brothers  on  awakening  the  next  morning  expe- 
rienced considerable  delight  at  finding  themselves  together 
and  free  of  all  fear.  They  had  brought  Joseph  away 
with  them  the  evening  before,  after  having  thanked  Ayasse, 
the  gardener,  and  handsomely  rewarded  him. 


THE   INSURRECTION   OF   FEBRUARY,    1848.      281 

Philippe  and  his  son  slept  at  the  little  lodging  of  the 
young  married  couple.  During  the  night  Marius  who  was 
very  much  upset  and  unable  to  close  his  eyes,  thought 
out  the  plan  of  a  new  existence,  and  as  soon  as  the 
family  were  assembled  round  the  breakfast-table  proceeded 
to  explain  it. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "let  us  speak  seriously.  We  must 
decide  what  we  are  going  to  do  with  this  child,  and  what 
Philippe  will  do." 

Philippe  at  once  became  grave  and  attentive.  He  had 
often  thought  of  the  life  he  would  lead  when  it  would  be 
no  longer  necessary  to  keep  in  hiding;  and  he  felt  it  was 
his  duty  to  work  for  his  son  and  renounce  his  ambitious 
ideas  and  follies. 

"The  child,"  continued  Marius,  smiling,  and  looking 
at  Fine,  "  will  easily  find  a  mother." 

The  young  woman  was  holding  little  Joseph  on  her 
knees  and  encouraging  him  to  eat  his  bread  and  milk  with 
all  sorts  of  caresses.  When  she  heard  what  her  husband 
said,  she  exclaimed : 

"A  mother!  Here  she  is!  He  was  entrusted  to  me, 
given  to  me.  Is  not  that  so,  Philippe  ?  It's  I  who  am  his 
mother.  As  we  have  no  children,  I'll  take  this  one 
and  I'll  not  part  with  him.  He  will  always  stay  with  me 
and  you'll  see  how  fond  I  shall  be  of  him!  " 

Philippe  who  was  very  much  affected  at  these  words 
pressed  the  hands  of  the  former  flower-girl  warmly.  The 
thought  of  bringing  up  his  son  had  caused  him  much 
anxiety,  and  he  had  often  inquired  of  himself  how  he 
could  attend  to  a  boy  of  four.  Fine's  offer  relieved  him 
of  his  embarrassed  position :  he  would  not  be  separated 
from  Joseph  and  the  child  would  have  a  devoted  mother 
to  watch  over  him. 

"The  child  is  provided  for,"  continued  Marius,  laugh- 
ing, "and  I  will  undertake  to  provide  for  the  father;  but 
before  we  go  any  further,  tell  me,  Philippe,  what  your 
ideas  are." 

"  I  wish  to  work,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  I  want  to 
make  you  forget  my  follies,  and  to  assure  for  myself  a 
calm  and  happy  future." 


282  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

"That  is  perfect.  You  renounce  your  dreams  of  wealth, 
and  consent  to  be  a  poor  fellow  like  I  am  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  can  give  you  what  you  want.  You  must  cast 
aside  the  stevedore's  blouse.  I  will  offer  you  a  modest 
position  which  will  enable  you  to  live  without  being  a 
drag  upon  anyone." 

"  I  accept  all,  in  anticipation.  I  confide  in  you  with 
my  eyes  closed,  being  sure  that  whatever  you  do  will 
conduce  to  my  happiness." 

"  Very  well !  I  am  going  to  place  you  immediately  with 
my  employer,  M.  Martelly.  For  more  than  six  months  I 
have  been  reserving  a  post  for  you  there,  that  will  bring 
you  in  eighteen  hundred  francs  a  year.  Believe  me,  my 
dear  brother,  remain  obscure,  do  not  seek  to  bear  the 
sway  and  we  will  enjoy  happy  times  together." 

The  two  brothers  went  to  the  ship-owner,  who  gave 
Philippe  a  kind  welcome  and  seemed  delighted  to  assist 
him  by  engaging  him  in  his  employ. 

"My  dear  Marius,"  said  he,  gaily,  " put  this  young  man 
where  you  like.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  work  to  do  here, 
and  we  require  an  active  and  intelligent  staff.  I  like  those 
who  serve  me  faithfully." 

Marius  entrusted  his  brother  with  a  part  of  the  corre- 
spondence, which  was  considerable,  and  from  that  moment 
Philippe  commenced  a  peaceful  existence.  He  passed  the 
daytime  at  his  office  and  in  the  evening  enjoyed  the 
tranquillity  of  the  home  of  the  young  couple,  taking  Joseph 
on  his  knees  and  playing  with  him  for  hours  together. 
Fine  had  been  able  to  rent  an  extra  room  on  the  fourth 
floor  from  the  landlord,  and  made  it  comfortable  for  the 
young  man  whose  life  was  in  common  with  that  of  the 
young  household;  he  lodged  and  took  his  meals  with  his 
brother,  never  went  out,  and  seemed  to  care  for  nothing 
beyond  this  domestic  felicity. 

This  peaceful  and  affectionate  life  lasted  for  several 
weeks,  and  to  see  such  an  united  and  happy  family,  no 
one  would  ever  have  thought  that  it  had  been  a  victim 
to  the  most  violent  commotion  a  few  months  before. 

Sometimes,  however,  Philippe's  voice  took  the  brief  and 


THE   INSURRECTION   OF   FEBRUARY,     1848.     285 

irritated  accents  of  former  days.  When  he  thought  of  M. 
de  Cazalis  the  fever  seized  him  again,  and  he  spoke  of 
making  Blanche's  uncle  disgorge. 

"We  are  cowards,"  he  said  one  evening  to  Marius,  "we 
don't  know  how  to  avenge  ourselves.  I  ought  to  go  and 
slap  that  man  in  the  face  and  demand  my  son's  fortune." 

Marius,  whose  calm  and  well-balanced  mind  enabled 
him  to  take  a  more  sober  view  of  the  position,  was  quite 
alarmed  at  his  brother's  sudden  outbursts  of  passion. 

"And  what  good  would  it  do,"  he  answered,  "if  you 
were  to  slap  your  enemy  in  the  face?  He  would  have 
you  imprisoned  again,  that  is  all." 

"  But  that  man's  a  thief!  He's  keeping  money  that  does 
not  belong  to  him;  he's  perhaps  spending  it  for  his  own 
purposes.  Ah !  you're  a  happy  fellow,  Marius,  to  be  able 
to  think  of  such  things  without  getting  in  a  rage.  For 
my  part  I  feel  inclined  to  wrest  this  property,  which  by 
right  should  go  to  Joseph,  away  from  him." 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  do  any  more  headstrong  things.  We 
are  living  peacefully  enough  at  present.  Do  not  spoil  our 
happiness." 

"Then  you  want  me  to  renounce  on  behalf  of  my  child, 
his  mother's  inheritance?" 

"  Eh  !  I  prefer  that  you  should  renounce  this  inheritance, 
at  least  for  the  moment,  rather  than  trouble  our  life  again. 
Let  us  remain  on  the  defensive  and  not  attack.  We  are 
too  weak,  and  shall  be  smashed  at  the  first  shock." 

"  I  would  like  to  see  my  son  wealthy  and  powerful.  I 
feel  ambitious  for  him  if  not  for  myself." 

"  Your  son  is  happy,  we  love  him  and  will  bring  him 
up  as  an  honest  man.  Believe  me,  he  wants  nothing, 
there  would  perhaps  be  more  reason  to  pity  him  if  you 
succeeded  in  making  him  a  rich  heir." 

Conversations  such  as  these  frequently  occurred  between 
Philippe  and  Marius.  The  latter  felt  that  M.  de  Cazalis  was 
too  powerful  to  be  attacked  with  any  likelihood  of  success  ;  he 
understood  that  the  former  deputy  would  assume  the  offen- 
sive at  the  first  opportunity,  and  he  wished  to  reserve  all  his 
power  for  the  defence.  His  most  earnest  desire  was  to  make 
Blanche's  uncle  forget  the  existence  of  Joseph  and  Philippe. 


284  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

Besides,  he  was  urged  by  many  reasons  to  preach  dis- 
interestedness to  his  brother.  He  feared  that  the  latter 
on  becoming  wealthy  would  go  crazy  again.  What  he 
was  dreaming  of,  moreover,  for  his  nephew,  was  the  same 
tranquil  existence  of  a  clerk  as  his  own,  and  he  did  not 
think  that  he  could  prepare  him  a  more  agreeable  future. 

He  frequently  said  to  himself:  "  This  child  will  be 
poor  and  happy  as  I  am,  he  will  find  a  Fine  who  will 
afford  him  the  same  pleasure  as  I  enjoy."  At  the  bottom 
of  his  heart  he  had  decided  that  he  would  never  claim  a 
sou  from  M.  de  Cazalis. 

When  Philippe  pressed  him  too  much  he  spoke  to  him 
of  Blanche,  and  said  that  a  scandal  would  kill  that  poor 
girl,  for  M.  de  Cazalis  would  not  consent  to  being  deprived 
of  several  hundreds  of  thousands  of  francs  without  revo- 
lutionizing all  Marseilles. 

It  was  thus  that  he  restrained  his  brother,  and  prevented 
him  from  making  a  scene  which  might  have  caused  irre- 
parable misfortune. 

Briefly,  Marius  proved  to  Philippe  that  the  time  had 
not  arrived  to  be  avenged  and  claim  the  inheritance,  and 
from  that  moment  the  existence  of  the  family  was  even 
more  peaceful.  They  had  only  one  anxiety,  they  felt  M. 
de  Cazalis  hovering  round  them  in  the  dark,  and  they 
took  every  precaution  to  protect  little  Joseph  against  the 
attempts  they  dreaded. 

In  this  way  they  reached  the  commencement  of  February. 
Marius  had  his  mind  at  ease,  he  was  pleased  to  see  his 
brother  put  up  with  an  obscure  and  modest  mode  of  life, 
and  believed  him  for  ever  cured  of  his  ambitious  dreams, 
There  was  nothing  in  the  young  man's  conduct  to  alarm 
him,  he  was  saying  to  himself  that  he  had  overcome  his 
evil  genius,  when  all  at  once  Philippe  took  to  going  out 
alone  and  to  absenting  himself  from  his  office  for  entire 
days. 

Marius  trembled  at  the  thought  of  their  happiness  being 
disturbed.  He  followed  his  brother  in  order  to  ascertain 
where  he  went,  and  he  learnt  that  he  was  a  member  of 
a  secret  society,  which,  subject  to  impulsion  coming  no 
doubt  from  Paris,  was  actively  at  work  propagating  Repub- 


THE   INSURRECTION   OF   FEBRUARY,    1848.      285 

lican  ideas.  This  discovery  upset  him,  he  was  in  despair 
again  at  seeing  his  brother  compromise  himself  and  supply 
M.  de  Cazalis  with  arms  which  he  might  turn  to  terrible 
account.  When  he  ventured  to  sermonize  the  conspirator, 
the  latter  answered : 

"  Listen,  I  promised  you  not  to  be  guilty  of  any  follies 
on  my  own  account,  but  I  had  no  intention  in  doing  so, 
of  renouncing  my  own  opinions.  The  people's  time  has 
come  and  I  should  be  a  man  unworthy  of  consideration 
if  I  were  not  to  labour  for  what  I  believe  to  be  the  good 
of  all." 

And  he  added  with  a  smile : 

"  In  future  I  shall  have  but  one  love  and  her  name 
will  be  'Liberty'." 

Marius  endeavoured  in  vain  to  keep  him  at  home 
in  the  evening  beside  little  Joseph.  He  would  listen  to 
nothing,  and  the  young  household  were  obliged  to  submit 
in  silence  and  despair  to  the  ruin  of  their  happiness. 

The  truth  was  that  a  peaceful  life  did  not  suit  Philippe. 
He  had  been  able  to  live  for  two  months  in  bourgeois 
tranquillity,  but  he  now  began  to  feel  sick  at  heart.  What 
he  required  was  violent  excitement,  an  existence  full  of 
danger  and  agitation,  and  he  dashed  with  delight  into  the 
peril  offered  by  a  revolution  that  was  imminent.  He  had 
always  been  a  man  of  action  and  an  ultra  democrat. 
Embittered  by  suffering,  having  to  avenge  himself  of  the 
nobility,  he  accepted  the  hope  of  an  insurrection  with 
lively  joy.  And  so,  he  resumed  his  blunt  manner,  made 
himself  the  leader  of  a  party,  urged  the  working  classes 
on  blindly  to  revolt  and  prepared  the  indigent  population 
for  the  barricades  that  he  saw  in  perspective. 

On  Friday,  25th  February,  a  thunder-clap  burst  upon 
Marseilles.  News  came  of  the  overthrow  of  Louis  Philippe 
and  the  proclamation  of  the  Republic  at  Paris. 

The  city  was  astounded.  This  population  of  commer- 
cial people  who  were  conservatives  by  instinct,  having  no 
care  beyond  their  material  interests,  was  entirely  devoted 
to  the  dynasty  of  the  Orleans  who  for  fifteen  years  had 
favoured,  in  a  large  measure,  the  development  of  com- 
merce and  industrv. 


286  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

The  opinion  predominating  at  Marseilles  was  that  the 
best  government  was  that  which  allows  speculators  the 
greatest  liberty  of  action.  Consequently  the  inhabitants 
were  greatly  alarmed  at  the  announcement  of  a  crisis 
which  would  naturally  put  a  stop  to  business  and  bring 
about  numerous  bankruptcies  by  causing  the  credit  on 
which  most  of  the  commercial  houses  alone  existed,  to 
be  stopped. 

Under  these  circumstances  Marseilles  received  news  of 
the  Republic  as  a  deplorable  commercial  disaster.  The 
city  felt  wounded  at  heart,  in  its  prosperity,  by  the  insur- 
rectional movement  at  Paris.  The  majority  were  in  de- 
spair at  the  idea  of  losing  the  five-franc  pieces  they  had 
hoarded  up,  and  there  were  but  few  who  felt  a  tremor 
at  the  word  "  Liberty "  or  whom  it  drew  from  the  heavy 
slumber  of  wealth. 

Philippe  had  been  too  confident  when  he  thought  he 
could  sow  and  develop  Republican  ideas  among  his  fellow 
townsmen.  He  exerted  himself  to  do  so  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  nature,  dreaming  wide  awake  and  working 
hard  to  realize  his  dreams.  If  he  had  made  a  better 
study  of  the  people  among  whom  he  lived,  if  he  had 
possessed  the  necessary  coolness  to  judge  men  and  things, 
he  would  have  renounced  the  idea  of  raising  the  standard 
of  liberalism  and  have  prudently  remained  quiet. 

The  Republican  party,  to  tell  the  truth,  did  not  exist ; 
there  was  no  connection  between  the  liberal  bourgeois 
•class  and  the  people:  the  latter  remained  on  the  lowest 
stage,  without  leaders,  without  any  well-defined  tendencies, 
and  with  no  courage  to  act  alone;  the  bourgeois  class 
were  satisfied  with  a  little  reasonable  liberty,  prepared  for 
their  use.  The  few  drawing-room  republicans  who  uttered 
their  fine  phrases  here  and  there,  were  simple  babblers 
who  did  not  understand  the  modern  ideas  of  the  various 
-classes  of  society,  and  who  merely  took  advantage  of  the 
new  state  of  things  to  make  themselves  prominent. 

Opposed  to  these  weak  and  disunited  Republican  ele- 
ments, were  two  powerful  camps :  the  Legitimists  who  were 
laughing  in  the  sleeve  at  the  overthrow  of  Louis  Philippe, 
hoping  to  take  advantage  of  the  disturbance  to  seize  the 


THE   INSURRECTION   OF   FEBRUARY,    1848.     287 

reins  of  power  again,  and  the  Conservatives,  the  crowd  of  com- 
mercial men  who  clamoured  for  peace  at  any  cost,  whoever 
were  the  master,  a  legitimate  King  or  an  Usurper.  The  latter 
only  hoped  ardently  for  one  liberty:  the  liberty  to  earn  millions. 

If  Marseilles  had  dared,  it  would  perhaps  have  made 
a  counter-revolution.  Compelled  to  submit  to  events,  it 
confined  itself  to  opposing  the  new  government  with  sullen 
reaction.  It  accepted  the  Republic,  from  the  first  moment, 
with  distrust,  and  endeavoured  to  lessen  the  effects  of 
the  new  order  of  things  as  much  as  possible.  The  Con- 
servative and  Legitimist  elements  still  dominated  the  city, 
and  made  it  a  very  active  centre  of  opposition. 

At  times,  when  Philippe  was  not  led  away  by  excitement, 
he  could  see  clearly  that  he  and  his,  would  never  succeed 
in  making  Marseilles  a  Republican  city,  and  he  then 
experienced  great  despair  and  anger.  For  some  time  he 
took  to  journalism ;  but  he  soon  understood  that  the 
flaming  articles  he  published  were  not  even  read  by  the 
frightened  swarm  of  commercial  men  and  that  his  enthu- 
siasm was  thrown  away.  He  then  saw  that  action  was 
preferable  to  journalism. 

One  of  the  measures  that  made  him  despair  the  most 
was  the  formation  of  a  National  Guard  selected  exclu- 
sively among  the  aristocratic  bourgeois  of  Marseilles.  This 
National  Guard  was  evidently  destined  to  keep  the  people 
in  check.  He  would  have  liked  to  see  the  poor  admitted 
to  its  ranks  as  well  as  the  wealthy,  so  that  the  guard  of 
the  city  might  be  entrusted  to  a  generality  of  citizens, 
to  a  body  honestly  animated  with  liberal  sentiments. 

The  people  alarmed  the  Conservatives  who  armed  the 
bourgeois  class  so  as  to  create  an  antagonistic  feeling 
between  the  two,  and  to  set  one  against  the  other  if 
circumstances  permitted.  It  was  simply  preparing  civil 
war.  The  corporation  of  stevedores,  was  the  only  element 
among  the  labouring  classes,  that  was  admitted  into  the 
ranks,  because  it  was  no  doubt  thought  that  the  members 
of  this  corporation,  who  were  in  the  pay,  as  it  were,  of  the 
merchants  who  employed  them,  would  consent  to  fight 
against  their  fellows,  the  other  workers,  the  populace  whose 
name  alone  caused  alarm. 


288  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Philippe  energetically  refused  to  belong  to  the  National 
Guard. 

"  I  shall  remain  with  the  people,"  he  exclaimed  in  public. 
"  If  ever  they  are  attacked,  if  their  rights  are  not  respected, 
I  shall  advise  them  to  arm  also  and  will  fight  with  them." 

From  Friday  25th  to  Tuesday  2Qth  Marseilles  could 
not  decide  on  proclaiming  the  Republic.  The  authorities 
of  the  former  regime  remained  at  their  post  and  the  entire 
city  was  anxious  and  ill  at  ease.  The  Prefect  and  Mayor 
affirmed  that  they  were  without  news  from  Paris.  Feeling 
there  was  great  peril  in  leaving  the  power  in  the  hands 
of  the  servants  of  the  former  King,  the  Republicans  made 
several  manifestations  without  effect.  Reaction  was  already 
commencing  and  the  Conservatives  would  not  abandon 
the  position  without  being  certain  there  was  no  further 
hope.  Monday  night  was  reached  thus.  A  multitude  of 
workmen  assembled  on  the  Cannebiere,  were  to  march 
to  the  Town  Hall  in  a  body,  with  torches  in  their  hands 
and  a  flag  at  their  head,  to  obtain  a  formal  promise  that 
the  new  government  would  be  publicly  proclaimed  on 
the  following  morning. 

During  these  five  days  of  anxiety,  Philippe  was  in  a 
terrible  state  of  excitement.  He  did  not  go  to  his  office, 
returned  home  late,  quite  upset  with  the  violent  emotions 
of  the  day,  and  brought  angry  and  threatening  language 
into  the  sad  and  distressed  young  household. 

Fine  and  Marius  gazed  on  him  in  despair,  convinced 
that  he  was  going  to  his  ruin,  and  unable  to  stop  him 
at  the  brink  of  the  precipice. 

CHAPTER  XL 
IN   WHICH    MATHEUS   BECOMES   A   REPUBLICAN. 

WHEN  M.  de  Cazalis'  temper  had  calmed  down  on  the 
day  following  his  expedition  to  the  cottage  of  Ayasse,  the 
gardener,  he  was  seized  with  absolute  terror.  He  felt 
himself  in  the  power  of  his  enemies:  now  that  Philippe 
had  obtained  his  pardon,  the  Cayols  would  no  doubt 
track  him  without  pity. 


MATHEUS   BECOMES   A   REPUBLICAN.  289 

He  allowed  Matheus  to  be  a  witness  of  his  alarm.  Not 
knowing  on  whom  to  vent  the  rage  that  his  powerlessness 
aroused  within  him,  he  overwhelmed  his  agent  with 
reproaches,  reviled  him  and  said  that  if  he  had  not  stolen 
Joseph,  it  must  be  because  he  was  in  the  pay  of  Marius. 

Matheus  received  the  abuse  philosophically  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"Very  good!  continue!"  he  said,  impudently,  "call  me 
a  villain,  if  that  relieves  you.  At  heart  you  know  I  am 
devoted  to  you,  because  you  pay  me  far  more  liberally 
than  those  beggars  Cayol  could  ever  do.  Instead  of  getting 
irritable,  it  would  be  wiser  to  think  over  the  position  and 
come  to  a  decision." 

The  rascal's  self-possession  calmed  down  M.  de  Cazalis 
and  he  then  confided  to  his  accomplice,  that  he  had  a 
very  good  mind  to  fly,  and  go  and  live  in  peace  in  Italy 
or  England.  It  was  the  simplest  and  most  expeditious 
way  of  escaping  the  annoyances  with  which  he  was 
threatened.  They  would  certainly  not  go  and  demand 
the  accounts  of  his  guardianship  in  a  foreign  country. 

Matheus  listened  to  his  master  and  shook  his  head. 
This  idea  of  running  away  did  not  suit  his  views  at  all. 
To  complete  his  fortune  he  required  M.  de  Cazalis  to 
remain  at  Marseilles,  so  that  he  might  speculate  on  his 
fright  and  get  all  the  money  he  could  out  of  him.  He 
certainly  felt  that  the  latter  was  right  in  wishing  to  take 
to  his  heels,  which  meant  safety,  but  lie  cared  very  little 
about  the  safetv  of  M.  de  Cazalis,  and  did  not  mind  if 
he  compromised  him,  from  the  moment  it  was  to  his 
interest  to  launch  him  into  a  struggle  from  which  the  issue 
was  doubtful.  What  he  desired  above  everything,  was  not 
to  lose  his  pay  as  a  spy.  He  therefore  pleaded  warmly 
against  flight,  and  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  good 
reasons  to  support  his  argument. 

"Why  fly?"  he  said.  "Have  you  abandoned  the  idea 
of  avenging  yourself  then  ?  There  is  no  reason  to  despair. 
Your  enemies  are  trembling  before  you  and  will  never 
dare  attack  you  openly.  There  arc  a  thousand  things 
that  bind  them  to  silence.  Come,  you  are  very  wrong  to 
be  alarmed.  In  your  place  I  would  remain  and  conquer. 

19 


290  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

I  would  openly  assume  the  offensive.  Those  idiots  are 
sure  to  make  a  mistake.  We  will  take  advantage  of 
everything,  and  the  time  will  come  when  we  shall  have 
them  again  in  our  power.  You  have  accused  me  of 
clumsiness  because  I  did  not  succeed  in  bringing  you  the 
little  one.  I  am  not  clumsy  and  I  have  a  return  match 
to  play.  On  the  word  of  an  honest  man,  you  shall  have 
the  child.  The  deuce !  Acting  together  we  can  make 
anything  we  engage  in  succeed." 

He  spoke  at  length,  cleverly  appealed  to  his  employer's 
pride  and  vengeance,  and  ended  by  persuading  him  to 
remain  and  continue  the  struggle.  Then  there  was  a  long 
conference  between  them. 

Before  doing  anything  M.  de  Cazalis  desired  Matheus 
to  make  -an  effort  with  Blanche.  He  was  to  endeavour 
to  obtain  her  signature  to  various  documents  which  would 
deprive  her  son  of  a  large  part  of  his  inheritance. 

He  set  out  on  his  errand  firmly  decided  not  to  get 
anything  signed,  for  if  he  acted  in  accordance  with  his 
master's  desire,  that  would  simplify  matters  too  much,  and 
his  services  would  no  longer  be  required,  as  when  the 
documents  were  once  signed  his  master  could  dispense 
with  his  assistance.  He  arranged  in  such  a  manner  that 
Blanche  firmly  refused  her  signature. 

M.  de  Cazalis  was  exasperated  at  this  refusal;  and  only 
dreamed  of  vengeance.  He  spoke  of  nothing  less  than 
having  the  Cayols  knocked  on  the  head. 

It  was  at  that  degree  of  irritation  that  Matheus  wished 
to  see  him  arrive,  and  he  took  advantage  of  it  to  make 
him  give  him  full  powers.  He  then  begged  him  not  to 
meddle  in  the  affair,  so  as  not  to  compromise  himself. 
Every  evening  he  called  and  made  him  a  report  which  was 
true  or  false ;  he  kept  him  informed  of  the  acts  and  attitude 
of  his  enemies,  calming  him,  irritating  him  according  to  his 
requirements,  and  always  promising  him  prompt  victory. 

Two  months  passed.  M.  de  Cazalis  was  beginning  to 
get  impatient,  saying  the  Cayols  were  too  circumspect, 
and  that  such  people  would  never  make  a  mistake,  when 
one  evening  Matheus  entered  his  drawing-room,  rubbing 
his  hands  with  the  air  of  a  conqueror. 


MATHEUS   BECOMES   A   REPUBLICAN.  291 

"  What's  the  news  ?  "  inquired  the  ex-deputy  impatiently 
of  his  accomplice. 

Matheus  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  had  seated 
himself  comfortably  in  an  armchair,  and,  with  his  hands 
crossed  over  his  stomach,  sat  blinking  his  eyes  with  a 
sanctimonious  air.  This  lackey  treated  the  illustrious 
descendant  of  the  Cazalis  as  an  equal. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  Republic?"  he  abruptly 
inquired  of  his  master,  in  a  bantering  tone.  "  It's  a  fine 
invention  of  the  human  mind,  is  it  not?" 

The  master  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  tolerated  this 
rascal's  impudence,  and  the  latter  took  secret  delight  in 
wounding  him. 

"  You  are  aware  that  the  monarchy  is  dead  and  buried," 
continued  the  tatterdemalion  in  the  same  bantering  tone. 
"  We  have  been  citizens  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours 
and  I  feel  inclined  to  address  you  in  the  second  person." 

M.  (!c  Cazalis  had  been  following  political  events  during 
the  last  few  months  with  much  indifference.  He  had 
learned  on  the  previous  evening  of  the  overthrow  of 
Louis  Philippe,  without  even  paying  attention  to  the  news. 
Formerly,  when  he  was  deputy  in  the  opposition  ranks, 
and  sought  to  shake  this  throne  which  the  people  had 
just  upset,  he  would  have  applauded  at  the  event,  Iree 
afterwards  to  discover  the  most  rapid  way  of  muzzling 
the  rabble,  which  was  the  name  he  generally  gave  to  the 
working  classes,  but  at  the  present  moment  his  only 
anxictv  consisted  in  discovering  a  means  by  which  he 
could  retain  possession  of  his  niece's  fortune  so  as  to  be 
able  to  devour  it  with  impunity. 

When  he  heard  Matheus  say  he  felt  inclined  to 
address  him  in  the  second  person,  he  nevertheless  made 
a  movement  of  disgust. 

"No  joking,"  he  said  drily.  "Come,  what  news  have 
you  ?  " 

Matheus  maintained  his  insolent   attitude. 

"Eh!  Eh!"  he  answered,  with  a  sneer,  "how  sharply 
you  speak  to  your  brothers;  for  you  arc  aware  that  we 
are  all  brothers!  it's  written  on  the  flags.  Oh!  what  a 
fine  thing  the  Republic  is!" 


292  THE  MYSTERIES   OF    MARSEILLES. 

"  Come  to  the  point.  What  do  you  know  ?  Where 
have  you  been?" 

"  I  know  that  we  shall  perhaps  be  throwing  up  barricades 
one  of  these  days,  and  I  come  from  the  Workers'  Club, 
of  which  I  am  one  of  the  most  popular  members.  It  is 
matter  for  regret,  sir,  that  your  opinions  debar  you  from 
listening  to  me.  I  delivered  a  speech  this  morning  against 
the  Legitimists  which  was  approved  by  everyone  present. 
But  for  the  matter  of  that,  I  can  give  you  proof  of  my 
eloquence." 

And  Matheus  rising,  stood  upright,  one  hand  on  his 
heart  and  the  other  extended  in  front  of  him  like  a  man 
about  to  speak. 

M.  de  Cazalis  understood  that  his  worthy  associate  had 
some  good  news  to  tell  him,  and  that  he  was  making  him 
pay  for  that  news  by  amusing  himself  at  his  expense. 
He  belonged  to  this  man,  and  he  saw  he  would  be  com- 
pelled to  accept  his  sneers  until  it  pleased  him  to  say 
all.  By  cowardice  and  to  flatter  this  rascal  who  played 
with  him  as  with  a  prey,  he  lowered  himself  to  the  point 
of  laughing  at  his  clownish  grimaces  hoping  by  so  doing 
to  make  him  speak  out  sooner. 

"You  certainly  must  make  a  capital  speaker,"  he  said 
to  him,  with  a  smile. 

Matheus  had  kept  in  the  same  position,  trying  to  recall 
the  sentences  of  his  speech.  Then,  he  let  himself  fall 
into  the  armchair,  crossed  his  legs,  threw  himself  back 
and  continued,  still  sneering : 

"  I  can't  remember  it.  It  was  very  fine.  I  said  the 
Legitimists  were  rascals.  I  even  think  I  mentioned  your 
name  and  suggested  hanging  you  at  the  first  opportunity. 
They  applauded.  I  must,  you  understand,  take  care  of 
my  popularity." 

He  laughed,  displaying  his  wolfish  teeth. 

M.  de  Cazalis,  who  was  becoming  exasperated  at  the 
scoundrel's  familiarity,  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
making  the  greatest  efforts  not  to  burst  out  in  anger. 
The  other  felt  delicious  delight  at  his  rage,  remained  silent 
for  a  moment,  and  when  he  saw  it  would  be  imprudent 
to  make  fun  any  longer,  he  continued  in  a  bantering  tone  : 


MATHEUS  BECOMES  A  REPUBLICAN.        293 

"By  the  way,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  M.  Philippe 
Cayol  is  my  colleague  at  the  Workers'  Club." 

M.  de  Cazalis  came  to  a  standstill. 

"At  last!"  he  murmured. 

"Yes,"  continued  Matheus  slowly,  "M.  Philippe  Cayol 
is  a  very  warm  Republican  and  I  pride  myself  on  being 
his  disciple.  I  humbly  confess  to  you  that  his  speeches 
are  of  a  much  more  fervent,  democratic  character  than 
mine.  That  young  man  will  certainly  save  the  country 
if  it  ever  stands  in  need  of  being  saved." 

"Ah !  that  simpleton  has  flung  himself  into  the  Liberal 
movement  ?  " 

"  Body  and  soul.  He  is  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  red 
party.  The  working-men  worship  him  because  he  shows 
no  pride  with  them  and  because  he  has  the  simplicity  to 
tell  them  in  good  faith  that  the  people  are  King  and  that 
the  poor  are  going  to  take  the  place  of  the  nobility  and 
wealthy." 

M.  de  Cazalis  was  beaming. 

"  He  is  compromising  himself,  we  have  him  in  our  grip !  " 
he  exclaimed. 

Matheus  feigned  to  be  scandalized. 

"What,  he  is  compromising  himself!"  he  answered. 
"  Say  he  is  a  hero,  a  glorious  child  of  the  Republic !  In 
ten  years,  the  people,  conquerors  of  kings,  will  erect  altars 
to  him.  I  experienced  such  enthusiasm  at  his  speeches, 
that  I  suddenly  felt  the  material  of  a  Republican  in  me." 

He  rose,  and  with   clownish  majesty  continued: 

"  Citizens,  you  see  in  me  a  Republican.  Look  at  me, 
observe  how  a  Republican  is  made.  We  are  only  a  few 
hundred  at  Marseilles,  but  we  are  sufficient  to  bring 
about  the  salvation  of  humanity.  As  for  myself  I  am 
full  of  zeal — 

In  his  turn  he  strode  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Here  is  what  I  have  already  accomplished  in  favour 
of  the  Republic,"  he  continued.  "I  have  taken  M.  Phi- 
lippe Cayol  as  a  model,  and  in  order  to  inspire  my  mind 
with  his  thoughts,  I  have  followed  him  step  by  step.  We 
were  both  members  of  a  secret  society  ;  then  I  arranged 
to  be  admitted  to  the  Workers'  Club  at  the  same  time  as 


2Q4  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

he  was.  Each  time  he  speaks  there,  I  applaud  him, 
intoxicate  him  with  enthusiasm.  That  is  my  own  poor 
way  of  serving  the  country.  I  am  sure  that  M.  Philippe 
Cayol,  encouraged  by  me,  will  accomplish  great  things." 

"  I  understand,  I  understand,"  murmured  M.  de  Cazalis. 

Matheus  continued  declaiming. 

"We  will  raise  barricades,  it  is  I  who  insist  on  it, 
because  barricades  are  necessary  to  M.  Philippe  Cayol's 
glory.  The  people  have  laboured  enough.  Is  it  not  so  ? 
The  aristocrats  must  work  in  their  turn.  A  few  bullets 
will  set  everything  in  order.  M.  Philippe  Cayol  will 
march  at  the  head  of  his  friends,  the  working-men :  he 
will  lead  them  on  to  fortune,  unless  a  gendarme  takes 
him  by  the  collar  and  drags  him  before  the  judges  at  the 
assizes,  who  will  certainly  show  the  bad  taste  to  sentence 
him  to  transportation." 

The  ex-deputy  was  beside  himself  with  delight.  The 
grimaces  with  which  Matheus  accompanied  his  speech, 
now  amused  him.  He  pressed  his  hands  and  repeated 
effusively : 

"Thanks,  thanks,  I  will  reward  you,  you  shall  be  rich." 

For  a  moment  Matheus  continued  standing  in  his 
triumphant  attitude.  Then  he  burst  out  into  a  peal  of 
laughter. 

"Eh!  What  think  you?"  he  exclaimed,  "  the  trick's  done?" 

He  had  the  manners  of  a  mountebank  about  him,  and 
was  delighted  at  the  scene  with  which  he  had  accompanied 
the  news  he  brought.  At  last  master  and  valet  seated 
themselves  and  talked  in  an  undertone. 

"You  understand  me,"  said  the  latter.  "We  have  got 
M.  Philippe,  who  is  behaving  like  a  child.  Trust  in  me. 
I  will  make  him  do  something  extravagant  which  he'll 
pay  dearly  for." 

"  But  if  you  follow  him  step  by  step,  he  must  recog- 
nise you.1' 

"  Eh !  no,  he  only  saw  me  once,  in  the  evening  at 
Saint  Barnabe.  Besides,  I  have  purchased  a  wig  of  a 
bright  red  colour,  which  gives  me  a  capital  revolutionary 
appearance.  Ah !  what  simpletons  these  democrats  are, 
my  dear  master!  They  talk  of  justice,  duty,  equality; 


MATHEUS   BECOMES   A   REPUBLICAN.  295 

they  have  an  air  of  honesty  that  irritates  me.  I  bet  they'd 
massacre  me,  if  they  were  aware  I  was  working  for  you. 
You  will  never  recompense  me  sufficiently  largely,  for  the 
sacrifice  I  am  making  in  consenting  to  pass  for  one  of 
theirs." 

"  And  if  the  Liberal  party  wins  the  day  ?  "  asked  M.  de 
Cazalis,  who  had  been  thinking.  Matheus  looked  at  his 
master  stupefied. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  he  answered,  twitting  him.  "  Then 
do  you  fancy  they  are  so  fond  as  all  that  of  the  Republic 
at  Marseilles?  Listen  to  this.  What  ever  happens  the 
Liberals  will  be  beaten  in  this  good  city.  Have  no  fear. 
If  Cayol  can  be  caught  in  some  fray,  his  business  will  be 
settled.  Before  a  fortnight's  over  our  merchants  will  have 
had  enough  of  liberty,  and  will  want  to  strangle  all  those 
who  serve  it  out  to  them." 

The  ex-deputy  remembered  the  manoeuvres  that  had 
brought  about  his  election  and  could  not  repress  a  smile. 
His  acolyte  was  right:  where  money  is  all-powerful,  Re- 
publican ideas  do  not  flourish. 

"I  have  no  need,"  continued  Matheus,  "to  expose  my 
entire  plan  to  you.  Remain  quiet  and  I  feel  sure  of 
handing  father  and  son  over  to  you.  We  will  begin  the 
expedition  to  Saint  Barnabe  again,  but  in  a  more  intelli- 
gent manner." 

And  as  his  master  renewed  his  thanks  he  bluntly  added  : 

"  But  look  here,  you  must  not  have  me  collared  with 
the  other  Republicans  to  get  rid  of  me  ?  I  am  compro- 
mising myself,  and  require  a  guarantee.  Write  me  a  letter 
instructing  me  to  watch  over  Philippe  Cayol.  In  that 
way  you  become  my  accomplice.  I  will  return  you  that 
letter  in  exchange  for  a  sum  of  money,  which  we  will 
arrange  between  us,  in  payment  for  my  services." 

M.  de  Cazalis  consented  to  everything.  He  could  not 
for  the  matter  of  that  do  otherwise,  and  he  felt  he  would 
always  have  power  over  Matheus  on  account  of  the  money. 

The  latter  before  leaving,  urged  him  to  remain  quiet  in 
his  hotel  as  he  wished  to  act  alone. 


296  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
THE   REPUBLIC  AT   MARSEILLES. 

THE  Republic  was  at  last  solemnly  proclaimed  on  the 
Cannebiere,  on  the  dull,  wet  morning  of  Tuesday,  Febru- 
ary 29th.  At  the  very  moment  when  the  former  authori- 
ties were  divesting  themselves  of  office,  the  temporary 
Commissary  that  Paris  had  sent  to  Marseilles,  was  descending 
the  Rue  d'Aix  in  a  post-chaise.  Thus,  by  a  singular  chance, 
during  the  march  past  of  the  troops  and  the  National 
Guard,  the  representatives  of  overthrown  Royalty  and  of 
the  young  Republic  were  brought  face  to  face. 

That  day  was  a  grand  and  solemn  one  for  Philippe. 
His  fondest  hopes  were  realised.  For  a  moment  he  had 
feared  that  the  Monarchy  might  be  followed  by  a  Regency. 
The  length  of  time  that  the  Prefect  and  Mayor  of  Mar- 
seilles had  taken  to  recognise  the  Revolution,  had  made 
him  think  that  the  struggle  at  Paris  had  perhaps  not  been 
decisive.  They  were  gaining  time,  they  were  no  doubt 
hoping  for  a  reaction  that  was  not  forthcoming.  When  he 
heard  the  new  government  publicly  proclaimed,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  people  had  just  won  a  grand  victory  and 
he  firmly  believed  that  the  hour  of  the  great  democratic 
cause  had  arrived. 

But  the  hopes  the  young  man  had  formed  on  hearing 
those  big  words,  "liberty,  equality,  fraternity,"  pronounced, 
were  not  long  in  being  dispelled  by  facts.  He  fell  down 
from  the  heights  of  his  humanitarian  dreams  to  the  reality 
of  human  passions  and  interests.  This  terrible  fall  exas- 
perated him  and  drove  him  to  extreme  resolutions. 

He  had  had  the  simplicity,  to  imagine  that  the  procla- 
mation of  the  Republic  would  be  followed  by  a  great 
movement,  which  would  carry  all  the  city  along  with  it 
into  a  Liberal  channel.  He  was  painfully  surprised  when 
he  perceived  that  the  superior  authorities,  urged  on,  no 
doubt,  by  the  fatality  of  circumstances,  were  obliged  to 
make  concessions  to  the  reaction.  The  Conservatives,  the 
Legitimists,  themselves,  remained  in  a  measure  the  mas- 


THE   REPUBLIC   AT   MARSEILLES.  2Q7 

ters  at  Marseilles.  Creatures  of  their  own  occupied  official 
posts  and  secretly  directed  public  affairs.  In  a  word  the 
city  tolerated  the  new  government  rather  than  accepted  it. 

When  the  Republicans  understood  that  they  were  not 
victorious,  they  wished  at  least  to  despatch  representatives 
to  Paris,  who  would  be  firmly  resolved  to  defend  the 
people's  interests,  and  so  the  ensuing  elections  absorbed 
all  their  power  of  action.  They  felt  how  precious  a  vic- 
tory would  be  to  them,  and  ardently  hoped  that  the 
deputies  would  be  chosen  from  their  ranks  alone. 

These  elections  were  to  be  held  on  April  23.  During 
the  three  weeks  preceding  that  date,  Philippe  took  an 
active  part  in  the  work  and  manoeuvres  of  the  different 
clubs.  The  democratic  party  had  suffered  a  preliminary 
check  on  the  occasion  of  the  appointment  of  a  Municipal 
Commission  on  which  men  hostile  to  the  Republic  had 
found  seats,  notwithstanding  the  desire  openly  expressed 
by  the  Republicans  that  they  should  be  excluded.  And 
so  the  clubs,  in  order  not  to  be  beaten  a  second  time,  dis- 
played great  activity  and  energy.  They  drew  up  prelimi- 
nary lists,  instructed  the  people  in  their  political  catechism 
and  strained  every  nerve  to  make  their  cause  triumph. 

During  these  three  feverish  weeks,  Philippe  continued 
to  throw  dust  into  his  own  eyes.  He  forgot  what  was 
the  real  feeling  in  the  city  and  would  not  see  the  formidable 
reaction  that  was  surrounding  the  small  group  of  Liberals. 
From  morn  to  eve  he  ran  about  Marseilles,  encouraging 
some,  thanking  others  and  endeavouring  to  obtain  the 
largest  number  of  votes  possible.  He  undertook,  moreover, 
to  sound  certain  people  whom  the  Republicans  wished  to 
make  their  representatives,  and  who  by  reason  of  their 
modesty,  or  from  some  other  cause,  remained  in  the  back- 
ground. Among  these  was  M.  Martelly. 

One  morning,  Philippe  went  to  his  office  where  he  was 
now  very  rarely  seen,  and  sent  to  ask  the  ship-owner  for 
a  short  interview.  M.  Martelly  received  him  ;it  once. 
He  understood  that  it  was  not  as  one  of  his  staff  that  the 
young  man  came  to  pay  him  a  visit;  he  did  not  allude 
to  his  frequent  absence,  but  treated  him  as  a  friend,  guessing 
the  nature  of  the  errand  that  brought  him  to  his  presence. 


298  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

After  one  or  two  commonplace  sentences,  Philippe 
entered  frankly  into  his  business. 

"I  have  not  seen  you  for  some  time  at  the  Workers' 
Club,"  he  said.  "You  are  a  member,  are  you  not?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  ship-owner.  "  I  go  there  very  rarely, 
I  think  that  such  gatherings  do  but  little  to  advance  the 
affairs  of  liberalism." 

Philippe  feigned  not  to  'hear. 

"  Your  absence  is  often  regretted,"  he  continued.  "  Men 
like  you  are  precious.  You  were  wrong,  one  of  my  colleagues 
said  to  me  yesterday,  to  have  kept  in  the  background  on 
the  occasion  of  the  appointment  of  the  Municipal  Com- 
mission, and  now  that  the  elections  are  drawing  near  you 
ought  to  show  yourself  and  lend  all  the  weight  of  your 
honourability  to  the  cause  we  are  defending." 

M.  Martelly  did  not  answer.  He  looked  his  interlocutor 
in  the  face,  to  compel  him  to  make  his  proposals  clear 
and  precise. 

Philippe  understood  him  and  conformed  with  good  grace. 

"  We  are  quite  disposed  to  push  your  candidature  for- 
ward," he  continued.  "Why  do  you  not  place  yourself 
in  the  ranks?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  during  which  the  ship- 
owner look  grave  and  sad. 

"  Why  ? "  he  answered  slowly,  "  because  I  am  certain 
beforehand  to  fail.  Allow  me  to  speak  to  you  as  a  friend, 
as  a  father.  You  are  going  to  your  ruin,  my  son.  The 
Republic  will  kill  you,  and  you  will  kill  the  Republic. 
You  know  what  my  convictions  are,  you  do  not  doubt,  I 
hope,  that  I  am  ready  to  spend  my  blood  for  the  triumph 
of  what  is  right  and  true.  But,  really,  we  do  not  find 
ourselves  here  in  a  centre  where  self-sacrifice  can  be  of 
use.  We  are  vanquished  before  having  fought.  I  thought 
for  a  moment  of  repairing  to  Paris,  of  offering  my  services 
to  the  government,  of  assisting  it  both  personally  and  with 
ray  fortune.  At  Marseilles  I  have  my  hands  tied.  So  I 
have  decided  to  remain  aside,  for  I  will  not  mix  in  all 
the  dirty  business  I  foresee  ahead." 

"  Then  you  are  certain  the  reaction  will  win  the  day  ?  " 

"  Yes.     If  all   the  cities  in  the  provinces  are  animated 


THE    REPUBLIC    AT    MARSEILLES.  299 

by  the  same  ideas  as  Marseilles,  our  Republic  will  last 
two  or  three  years  at  the  most,  and  we  shall  then  soon 
have  a  dictator.  Interrogate  facts  and  they  will  answer." 

M.  Martelly's  grave  tone  of  voice  and  calm  despair 
produced  a  most  lively  impression  on  Philippe,  who  was 
for  a  moment  conscious  of  the  terrible  reality. 

"You  are,  perhaps,  right,"  he  answered  sadly,  "but  if 
young  people  had  your  experience,  they  would  cross 
their  arms,  and  that  would  look  cowardly.  You  see  it 
is  better  to  struggle.  Then,  you  refuse  to  put  yourself 
forward  ?  " 

"No,  indeed.  If  the  people  think  they  have  need  of 
me,  I  will  respond  to  their  call,  whatever  happens. 
Although  I  feel  certain  of  not  succeeding,  I  do  not  think 
I  have  the  right  to  avoid  the  requirements  of  circumstances. 
I  will  not  retire  in  presence  of  a  repulse,  from  the  moment 
Republicans  ask  me  to  run  the  bad  chance  of  that  repulse, 
but  I  will  not  be  mistaken  for  one  of  those  ambitious 
creatures  who  are  stirring  up  the  population  at  present, 
win)  flatter  the  Republic  as  they  flattered  Royalty,  so  as 
to  assure  their  fortune  and  position.  I  have  kept  in  the 
dark  up  to  now  so  as  not  to  be  confused  with  one  of 
those  men,  and  I  wish  it  to  be  clearly  understood  that  if 
I  consent  to  be  a  candidate  it  is  because  people  have 
asked  me  and  I  have  solicited  nothing." 

M.  Martelly  had  raised  his  voice.  Standing  up,  his  eyes 
sparkling,  he  accented  each  word  witli  vigorous  action. 
Philippe  had  also  left  his  seat. 

"Come,  you  arc  yourself  again,"  he  said,  "you  will 
see,  all  will  go  well.  I  am  going  to  tell  our  friends  at 
once  that  you  accept  their  mandate.  Your  name  will  be 
placed  on  the  preliminary  lists  to-day,  and  it  must 
absolutely  come  victorious  out  of  the  urn." 

"You  are  young,"  replied  the  ship-owner  shaking  his 
head ;  "  you  dream  with  your  eyes  open.  Ah !  my  poor 
child,  liberty  is  very  sick.  I  think  we  are  present  at  its  funeral." 

Philippe  drew  himself  up  violently. 

"Well!''  he  exclaimed,  "if  they  kill  it,  we'll  take  our 
guns  and  kill  its  murderers.  It  will  be  civil  war,  barricades, 
blood,  corpses.  So  much  the  worse!" 


300  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

He  trembled  with  exasperation.  M.  Martelly  had  taken 
his  hands  and  sought  to  pacify  him. 

"If  you  make  barricades,"  he  said  to  him,  "I  will  go 
and  place  myself  between  your  fire  and  that  of  the 
troops.  Blood  must  not  be  spilt  in  the  name  of  brother- 
hood. No,  no;  we  must  have  no  violence." 

Philippe  withdrew.  This  interview  had  filled  him  with 
sullen  uneasiness.  The  ship-owner's  calm  reason  had 
thrown  cold  water,  as  it  were,  on  his  passion.  Internally 
he  was  in  despair,  but  he  continued  to  busy  himself  ac- 
tively with  the  elections,  and  when  the  grand  day  came 
he  had  almost  recovered  hope,  so  that  the  result  of  the 
first  trial  fell  upon  him  like  a  thunderbolt.  All  M.  Mar- 
telly's  predictions  were  accomplished.  Not  only  was  he 
not  named,  but  the  reactionary  party  had  a  complete 
victory.  Out  of  ten  deputies  elected,  there  were  barely 
three  Radical  republicans,  the  others  belonged  to  the  Con- 
servative, and  particularly  to  the  Legitimist  party. 

From  that  moment  Philippe  was  in  a  constant  state  of 
irritation.  He  saw  clearly  how  useless  his  efforts  were  and 
yet  he  gave  himself  up  to  an  ill-fated  task  that  could 
only  lead  to  misfortune.  Each  day  the  party  he  sup- 
ported had  to  put  up  with  a  new  defeat.  The  reaction 
increased  in  power,  and  one  newspaper  went  so  far  as  to 
openly  preach  political  decentralisation  to  escape  what  it 
termed  the  Revolutionary  dictatorship  of  Paris.  The 
superior  authorities  were  weak  and  powerless  and  con- 
stantly made  concessions.  If  a  king  had  landed  on  the 
Cannebiere  he  would  have  been  acclaimed  by  the  entire 
city. 

The  Republicans  protested  in  vain  against  the  organi- 
zation of  the  National  Guard,  the  companies  of  which 
were  composed  solely  of  rich  bourgeois,  and  consequently 
of  Conservatives.  This  organization  presented  permanent 
danger  of  civil  war.  The  day  the  people  and  the  Na- 
tional Guard  met  there  would  necessarily  be  a  shock. 

Philippe,  in  his  hours  of  anger  and  despair,  foresaw  this 
fatal  meeting,  and  experienced  ghastly  delight  in  thinking 
of  the  hand-to-hand  struggle.  In  the  meanwhile  he 
fraternized  with  the  people,  was  at  all  the  banquets  and 


THE  REPUBLIC   AT   MARSEILLES.  301 

intoxicated  himself  with  rhetoric.  After  the  elections  he 
had  resigned  his  post  with  M.  Martelly.  so  as  to  be  able 
to  live  freely  in  the  streets,  amidst  the  events  of  each 
day.  He  knew  not  how  all  this  would  end,  but  he  nursed 
the  vague  hope  of  a  battle  out  of  which  the  people  would 
issue  victorious.  Then  the  Republic  would  triumph  and 
the  working-men  would  command  in  their  turn. 

Two  months  passed  by  and  they  were  in  the  middle 
of  June. 

Fine  and  Marius  lived  in  constant  alarm.  The  latter,  not 
daring  to  lecture  his  brother  any  more,  owing  to  his  blunt 
manner,  confined  himself  to  watching  him  on  the  sly,  so 
as  to  be  always  ready  to  save  him  from  the  follies  lie 
might  be  guilty  of.  One  day  as  he  arrived  on  the  Canne- 
biere,  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  captain  of 
the  National  Guard,  who  was  making  the  new  gold  braid 
on  his  uniform  dazzle  in  the  sun.  After  a  moment  he 
recognised  Sauvaire. 

The  former  master-stevedore  was  beaming.  He  struck 
his  heel  on  the  pavement  in  a  victorious  fashion.  At 
times,  when  he  glanced  at  his  epaulettes  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye,  a  smile  of  satisfied  vanity  hovered  round  his 
lips.  His  sword  troubled  him  somewhat  by  knocking 
against  his  calves;  but  he  held  it,  leaning  his  hand  on 
the  hilt,  with  rounded  arm.  His  uniform  fitted  him  tightly 
in  true  military  style,  and  if  he  were  bursting  in  his  tunic, 
he  was  happy  to  do  so  for  the  welfare  of  his  country. 
By  the  way  he  walked,  with  his  elbows  stuck  out,  one 
could  see  he  saved  France  at  every  ten  paces.  You 
could  read  on  his  intensely-delighted  countenance,  child- 
like joy  at  being  dressed  up  as  a  soldier,  and  a  burning 
desire  to  be  taken  seriously. 

His  meeting  with  Marius  at  first  rather  embarrassed 
him.  He  feared  the  latter  might  remember  the  past,  the 
time  when  he  frequented  the  gambling  hells,  and  that  he 
would  make  fun  at  finding  him  in  uniform.  He  looked 
at  him  uneasily,  dreading  to  see  his  dignity  compromised. 
When  he  perceived  the  young  man  suppressed  a  slight 
smile,  he  thought  it  well  to  show  himself  off  with  all  the 
grace  of  his  rank  of  officer. 


302  THE  MYSTERIES  OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  Eh ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  military  voice,  brief  and 
resounding.  "  Eh  !  it's  my  young  friend !  How  are  you  ? 
It's  centuries  since  I  saw  you.  Ah!  How  many  events, 
good  heavens !  How  many  events !  " 

He  spoke  so  loud  that  the  passers-by  turned  round. 
This  attention  bestowed  on  his  personality  flattered  him 
enormously.  He  shook  himself  in  delight,  producing  a 
clanking  sound  of  steel,  and  cast  the  reflex  of  his  stripes 
and  epaulettes  in  the  eyes  of  the  crowd. 

As  Marius  pressed  his  hand  without  answering,  he 
imagined  he  was  confounded  by  the  magnificence  of  his 
costume.  He  took  his  arm  with  a  protecting  air  and 
began  to  walk  up  the  Cannebiere,  deigning  to  give  him 
proofs  of  friendship. 

"Hey!  you  stare  at  me?"  he  continued.  "You  are 
surprised  to  see  me  in  the  National  Guard  ?  What  could 
I  do  ?  They  so  begged  me,  so  implored  me.  that  in  the 
end  I  accepted.  You  understand,  I  would  a  thousand 
times  sooner  live  quietly  at  home.  But  in  these  difficult 
times  good  citizens  have  duties  to  perform.  They  had 
need  of  me  and  I  cculd  not  refuse." 

He  lied  with  the  most  bare-faced  self-possession.  It 
was  he  who  had  begged  for  the  post  of  captain  with 
joined  hands.  He  wanted  golden  epaulettes:  on  that 
condition  only  did  he  consent  to  serve  the  country. 

Marius  sought  for  an  answer  and  finding  nothing,  ended 
by  murmuring: 

"Yes,  yes,  we  are  in  difficult  times." 

"  But  we  are  here !  "  cried  Sauvaire,  placing  his  hand 
on  his  sword.  "  They  will  have  to  pass  over  our  corpses 
before  they  can  trouble  the  tranquillity  of  the  land.  Fear 
nothing,  cheer-up  your  wives  and  children :  the  National 
Guard  will  not  betray  its  mandate." 

He  delivered  this  like  a  speech  learnt  by  heart.  Marius, 
to  put  him  out  of  countenance,  was  tempted  to  ask  him 
for  news  of  Clairon. 

"  Observe  all  this  population,"  continued  Sauvaire,  "how 
peaceful,  what  faith  it  has  in  our  vigilance  and  courage!" 

He  stopped,  and  continued  in  his  old  tone  of  naivete 
and  self-satisfaction : 


THE   REPUBLIC   AT   MARSEILLES.  303 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  uniform  ?  Haven't  I  a 
martial  air?  The  epaulettes,  you  know,  cost  me  a  tre- 
mendous lot  of  money." 

"  You  look  capital,"  answered  Marius,  "  and  I  confess  your 
unexpected  appearance  produced  great  impression  on  me. 
And  what  are  your  opinions?" 

Sauvaire  appeared  full  of  importance. 

"My  opinions?"  he  repeated,  thinking  what  that  could 
mean.  "Ah!  yes,  what  I  think  of  the  Republic,  that's 
it,  is  it  not?  Well,  I  think  the  Republic  is  an  excel- 
lent thing.  Only,  order,  you  understand.  The  National 
Guard  was  formed  to  preserve  order.  Order.  I  insist  on 
that." 

He  swung  his  body  about,  triumphant  at  having  been 
able  to  find  he  had  an  opinion.  At  the  bottom  of  his 
heart  he  felt  esteem  for  the  Republic,  which  had  given 
him  epaulettes;  but  he  had  been  told  that  if  the  Repu- 
blicans were  victorious  they  would  rob  him  of  his  money, 
and,  therefore,  he  detested  the  Republicans.  These  con- 
tradictory sentiments  had  to  get  on  together  as  best  they 
could,  but  for  the  matter  of  that  he  never  asked  himself 
what  his  convictions  were. 

He  went  a  little  way  further  with  Marius  and  then  left 
him  with  the  remark,  uttered  with  much  importance,  that 
his  duty  called  him  elsewhere.  But  it  was  only  a  sham 
departure,  he  turned  on  his  heels  and  came  back  to 
whisper  to  the  young  man  in  a  confidential  tone: 

"Ah!  I  forgot.  Just  tell  your  brother  that  he  compro- 
mises himself  with  that  lot  of  tatterdemalions  whom  lie 
drags  along  with  him  everywhere.  Advise  him  to  give 
up  the  rabble  and  obtain  a  captain's  commission  like  me. 
It's  more  prudent." 

And,  as  Marius,  without  replying,  pressed  his  hand  to 
thank  him,  he  added  like  the  good  fellow  he  was  at 
heart: 

"  If  I  can  be  of  use  to  you  in  any  row,  count  on  me. 
I  feel  just  as  much  inclined  to  serve  my  friends  as  my 
country.  I  am  at  your  service,  you  understand." 

He  was  no  longer  acting.  Marius  thanked  him  again 
and  they  parted  the  best  friends  in  the  world. 


304  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

In  the  evening,  the  young  man  spoke  to  Fine  and  his 
brother  of  the  meeting,  and  amused  them  by  a  descriptive 
account  of  the  triumphant  attitude  of  the  former  master- 
stevedore,  but  at  last  Philippe  became  irritated. 

"And  it's  to  such  men  as  this  that  the  tranquillity  of 
the  city  is  entrusted!"  he  exclaimed.  "These  gentlemen 
are  well  dressed,  these  gentlemen  play  at  soldiers.  Ah ! 
let  them  beware !  they  may,  perhaps,  be  compelled  to  per- 
form their  part  seriously.  The  people  are  tired  of  their 
tomfoolery  and  vanity." 

"Hold  your  tongue,"  said  Marius,  severely.  "These 
men  may  be  ridiculous,  but  one  doesn't  kill  one's  fellow 
countrymen." 

Philippe  rose  and  continued  with  greater  violence: 

"The  country  is  not  with  them.  It  is  the  workmen, 
the  workers  who  are  the  country.  The  bourgeois  have 
guns,  the  people  have  none.  The  people  are  being 
guarded,  musket  to  the  shoulder,  like  wild  beasts.  Well ! 
one  of  these  days  the  beasts  will  show  their  teeth  and 
devour  their  guardians.  That's  all." 

And  he  abruptly  went  upstairs  to  his  room. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
WHAT   MATHEUS   UNDERSTOOD    BY   STRATEGY. 

MATHEUS  was  decidedly  a  pure  Republican,  a  radical  with 
whom  there  was  no  joking.  His  forehead  was  half  covered 
by  his  carroty  wig,  and  when  he  shook  his  head  in  the 
clubs,  it  resembled  a  torch  throwing  out  a  reddish  light. 
He  was  always  on  the  side  of  the  extreme  party,  and  sup- 
ported any  measure  likely  to  cause  disorder  in  the  city. 
He  had  ended  by  inspiring  a  sort  of  respectful  terror,  and 
his  advice  was  listened  to  with  admiration,  and  fear.  On 
the  day  following  the  elections  he  had  spoken  plainly  of 
setting  fire  to  Marseilles,  and  this  had  made  him  extremely 
popular  among  the  exalted  liberals. 

He  often  met  Philippe,  but  avoided  becoming  intimate 
with  him,  confining  himself  to  keeping  a  watchful  eye  on 


WHAT   MATHEUS   UNDERSTOOD   BY    STRATEGY.  305 

him  from  a  distance  and  to  taking  note  of  the  fiery 
language  that  sometimes  escaped  him.  He  wanted  to  see 
him  mixed  up  in  a  nice  little  conspiracy.  So  long  as  the 
young  man  limited  himself  to  declaiming  in  the  clubs, 
taking  part  in  the  banquets  and  popular  manifestations, 
he  felt  he  could  do  nothing  against  him,  and  it  was  for 
that  reason  that  he  argued  in  favour  of  war  and  barricades. 
He  hoped  that  at  the  first  shot,  Philippe  would  rush  down 
and  join  in  the  street  fight,  and  be  arrested  and  condemned 
as  an  insurgent. 

Besides,  civil  war  formed  part  of  Matheus'  calculations. 
Having  promised  his  master  to  hand  over  to  him  father 
and  son,  he  relied  on  the  tumult  of  the  insurrection  to 
steal  little  Joseph,  while  Philippe  would  be  either  killed 
or  imprisoned.  He  had  arranged  in  his  head  a  plan  which, 
according  to  his  idea,  could  not  fail  to  succeed.  But  it 
was  a  question  of  persuading  the  people  to  fight.  They 
seemed  to  him  quite  disposed  to  do  so,  and  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  if  ever  a  shot  were  fired,  he  would  sow 
such  discord  that  an  encounter  would  be  inevitable. 

During  this  time  M.  de  Cazalis  was  becoming  impatient. 
For  three  months  he  had  waited  in  vain  for  Matheus  to 
accomplish  his  promises.  When  the  latter  came  secretly 
in  the  evening  to  give  him  an  account  of  the  events  of 
the  day,  he  complained  bitterly  of  the  long  delay  that 
obliged  him  to  live  in  hiding  at  his  mansion. 

"  But,  sir,"  said  the  spy,  with  his  insolent  laugh,  "  I 
cannot  make  the  barricades  all  alone  !  Allow  the  insurrection 
to  ripen.  Why,  you're  more  of  a  Republican  than  myself. 
One  accustoms  oneself  to  everything,  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

One  night  Matheus  suddenly  burst  in  upon  the  ex-deputy 
exclaiming: 

"  Faith,  I  believe  we  shall  fight  to-morrow.  I  have 
just  spoken  for  two  hours  at  the  club." 

He  was  in  high  spirits,  and  already  saw  in  the  near  future 
the  money  his  master  had  promised  him  if  he  succeeded. 
The  latter  pressed  him  with  questions,  insisting  at  length 
on  facts. 

"  Look  here,"  answered  Matheus.  "  The  Marseillais  would 
never,  perhaps,  have  moved,  but  they  have  just  had  the 

20 


306  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

visit  of  some  Parisians  who  were  present  at  the  events  in 
February,  and  that  has  put  some  courage  into  them.  You 
understand,  I  am  speaking  of  those  Parisians  destined 
for  the  war  in  Italy,  and  who,  robbed  on  the  way  by 
one  of  their  chiefs,  reached  Marseilles  stripped  of  everything. 

"  But  those  Parisians  have  gone, "  interrupted  M.  de  Cazalis 

"  Yes,  but  they  have  left  a  revolutionary  current  here. 
There  was  a  gathering  in  their  favour  in  front  of  the  Prefecture 
which  almost  came  to  blows.  The  people  wanted  the 
city  to  come  to  their  assistance  and  the  working  classes, 
who  are  very  discontented,  will  make  a  great  manifesta- 
tion to-morrow  which  I  trust  will  end  badly." 

"  But  what  do  the  workmen  want  then  ?  "  inquired  the 
ex-deputy. 

Matheus  then  posted  him  up  in  the  actual  state  of 
affairs,  which  was  very  serious.  The  great  danger  came 
from  the  workmen  employed  at  the  National  workshops, 
which  had  been  established  with  much  difficulty  at  Mar- 
seilles and  were  to  cause  irreparable  misfortune.  The  only 
work  that  could  be  given  to  the  people,  by  the  terms  of 
the  decree  of  the  Provisional  Government,  was  the  digging 
out  of  the  canal,  then  in  progress,  which  at  the  present 
day  brings  the  waters  of  the  Durance  to  the  city.  There 
was  quite  a  multitude  of  workmen  there,  employed 
indiscriminately  at  a  task  other  than  their  particular 
trades,  who  for  the  most  part  cursed  the  bread  they 
earned  and  kept  the  spark  of  revolt  always  alight. 

The  discontent  of  these  toilers  arose  from  the  inequality 
the  government  had  established  between  them  and  their 
brethren  at  Paris.  The  latter,  according  to  the  decree, 
had  only  to  work  for  ten  hours,  while  those  in  the 
departments  laboured  for  eleven  hours.  In  presence  of 
the  incessant  complaints  of  the  Marseillais  workmen  the 
commissary,  fearing  the  exasperation  of  this  ill-disciplined 
body  of  men,  had  thought  right  to  make  use  of  his  discre- 
tional powers  and  had  reduced  the  day's  labour  at  Mar- 
seilles to  ten  hours. 

Unfortunately  all  the  heads  of  workshops  would  not 
accept  this  reduction.  Some  continued  to  insist  on  their 
workmen  doing  eleven  hours;  others  deducted  the  value 


WHAT    MATHEUS   UNDERSTOOD    BY    STRATEGY.  307 

of  the  hour's  work  that  was  not  done.  This  gave  rise  to 
constant  rebellion  and  a  permanent  feeling  of  exasperation 
which  could  only  end  in  a  violent  crisis.  Up  to  that  time 
the  complaints  of  the  workmen  had  not  met  with  any 
serious  result;  the  statements  of  facts  they  had  drawn  up 
had  had  no  effect;  their  manifestations  had  been  met  by 
idle  promises  which  were  broken  as  soon  as  their  backs 
were  turned.  They  wanted  to  finish  the  business,  they 
wished  for  justice. 

On  Tuesday  June  2Oth,  the  evening  preceding  that  on 
which  Matheus  had  given  these  details  to  his  master,  the 
delegates  of  the  corporations  had  assembled  to  discuss  the 
advisability  of  making  a  grand  manifestation.  They  had 
almost  all  voted  agairst  it,  foreseeing,  no  doubt,  the  sanguin- 
ary struggle  it  would  result  in. 

"  The  delegates  seem  to  me  clever  and  prudent  persons," 
said  Matheus  in  conclusion  ;  "  but  fortunately  the  workmen 
are  far  too  irritated  to  listen  to  them.  If  there  happen 
to  be  some  cool  heads  among  the  latter,  there  are  also 
many  fiery  spirits  who  dream  of  getting  the  upper  hand 
by  force.  I  think  I  can  promise  you  a  nice  little  insur- 
rection. I  know  a  great  number  of  workmen  will  not 
abide  by  the  vote  of  the  delegates  and  have  decided  that 
the  manifestation  shall  be  held  in  spite  of  it.  It  will  be 
extraordinary  if  some  circumstance  docs  not  bring  about 
a  struggle.  You  shall  see  how  I  will  warm  it  up  for  you." 

M.  de  Cazalis  listened  to  the  spy  with  delight. 

"Are  your  plans  all  formed?"  he  inquired.  "  You  are 
certain  Cayol  will  compromise  himself  and  that  you  will 
succeed  in  gaining  possession  of  the  child?" 

"Eh!  don't  be  uneasy,"  answered  the  other.  "  That  is 
my  business.  If  there  be  a  fight,  Master  Philippe  will  be 
in  the  first  rank  of  the  insurgents,  of  that  you  may  be- 
sure ;  and  as  to  the  child,  he  will  be  in  your  possession 
before  evening.  These  workmen  are  perfect  asses,  they're 
going  to  get  killed  and  imprisoned  for  nonsense.  Ah ! 
the  Republic  is  a  great  joke!  Good  night,  to-morrow 
morning  I  will  call  and  give  you  the  day's  programme." 

Matheus  left  M.  de  Cazalis,  and  remained  until  night  in 
the  streets,  listening  to  what  was  said  and  endeavouring 


308  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

to  foresee  events.  A  rumour  that  was  abroad  caused  him 
anxiety:  it  was  pretended  that  the  Government  Commissary 
did  not  seem  hostile  to  the  manifestation.  It  was  affirmed 
that  he  had  received  the  visit  of  some  delegates,  who  had 
hastened  to  inform  him  they  were  powerless  to  keep  back 
the  crowd  of  workmen,  and  he  had  let  them  understand 
that  he  was  not  displeased  at  this  step,  which  might  enable 
him  to  take  more  stringent  measures  against  the  refractory 
heads  of  the  workshops.  It  was  even  added  that  he  had 
already  fixed  the  itinerary  the  column  was  to  follow  while 
he  received  the  delegates. 

Matheus  went  to  bed  in  despair  and  furious  against  the 
Republic. 

"  What  a  lot  of  cowards !  "  he  murmured,  "  they  will 
not  dare  exchange  a  shot !  But  fight,  you  brutes !  You 
ruin  me  if  you  do  not.  They  shake  their  fists  at  one  an- 
other, the  poor  want  to  eat  up  the  rich,  and  they  always  end 
by  hugging  each  other.  It's  disgusting.  You  will  see  that 
to-morrow,  the  quarrel  will  end  in  a  banquet,  at  which 
Commissary  and  workmen  will  get  an  indigestion  from 
eating  too  much  pork.  However,  we  shall  see." 

As  soon  as  he  awoke,  he  hastened  to  the  vicinity  of 
the  Prefecture.  It  was  Thursday  the  22nd.  The  building 
was  surrounded  by  troops. 

"And,  on  we  go!"  Matheus  murmured  to  himself  with 
lively  delight.  "I  knew  they'd  fight!  I'll  go  and  find 
my  friends  the  workmen  to  throw  them  on  those  bayonets." 

But  before  withdrawing,  he  mingled  with  the  groups 
and  found  that  the  Commissary  seemed  to  have  repented 
of  authorising  the  manifestation.  A  message  had  been 
sent  to  a  few  companies  of  the  National  Guard  on  the 
previous  evening,  and  the  line  had  been  called  out.  No 
detail  escaped  the  spy,  and  he  remarked  that  no  Repub- 
lican company  was  present  among  the  citizen  soldiers. 
Sauvaire  was  parading  at  the  corner  of  two  streets. 

Matheus  hastened  to  the  Boulevard  Chave,  where  another 
meeting  of  the  delegates  was  to  be  held.  They  declared 
themselves  opposed  to  the  manifestation,  as  had  occurred 
two  days  before,  and  a  certain  number  of  them  even  said 
that  the  workmen  whom  they  represented,  had  that  morning 


WHAT   MATHEUS   UNDERSTOOD   BY   STRATEGY.  309 

gone  to  work  as  usual.  As  the  men  who  were  peacefully 
disposed  were  about  to  withdraw,  those  who  wished  for 
the  manifestation  at  any  price,  urged  on  and  excited  by 
Matheus,  persuaded  their  comrades  to  join  them.  A 
nucleus  was  formed,  which  went  on  increasing  and  in  the 
end  became  a  regular  crowd.  The  people  were  started 
and  would  now  not  stop. 

When  Matheus  understood  that  the  multitude  required 
no  more  urging-on,  he  allowed  it  to  increase  by  itself  and 
roll  towards  the  Prefecture.  During  that  time  he  completed 
his  plan  of  campaign. 

He  wished  first  of  all  to  give  M.  de  Cazalis  news,  as  he 
had  promised.  Nine  o'clock  was  striking.  Thinking  aright 
that  he  would  not  be  allowed  to  cross  the  Place  Saint- 
Ferreol,  which  was  then  full  of  troops,  he  went  to  the 
Quay  du  Canal,  took  the  Rue  de  Breteuil  and  found 
himself  within  a  few  steps  of  his  master's  mansion.  He 
had  to  pass  by  the  house  inhabited  by  the  Cayols,  which 
stood  on  the  Cours  Bonaparte,  close  to  the  residence 
of  M.  de  Cazalis.  He  cast  a  triumphant  look  at  the 
structure  as  he  went  by. 

His  plan  would  depend  on  circumstances.  He  relied 
on  the  troubles  of  the  insurrection  to  steal  Joseph.  No 
doubt  Marius  would  go  in  search  of  his  brother  at  the 
first  shot;  and  during  that  time  it  would  be  easy  for  him 
to  tear  the  child  from  Fine's  arms.  Besides,  he  was  in 
hopes  that  as  the  Prefecture  was  near,  all  the  quarter  would 
take  fire:  perhaps,  even,  barricades  might  be  raised  in  the 
neighbouring  streets ;  in  a  word  he  awaited  some  event 
that  would  facilitate  the  capture  of  the  little  one,  and  he 
vowed  to  himself  he  would  act  boldly,  and  risk  all  to 
succeed. 

As  he  took  a  last  glance  at  the  door,  recalling  to  memory 
the  inside  of  the  house,  which  he  had  been  studying  for 
some  time,  he  saw  a  young  woman  leave  it  rapidly,  holding 
a  child  in  her  arms.  He  recognised  Fine  and  little  Joseph. 
This  sudden  exit  alarmed  him,  and  he  proceeded  to 
follow  the  young  woman. 

Fine  walked  along  hurriedly,  without  turning  her  head, 
impatient  to  arrive  at  her  destination.  She  went  down 


310  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

the  Rue  de  Breteuil,  up  the  Cannebiere  to  the  Place  Royale 
and  entered  the  narrow  streets  of  the  old  town.  Matheus 
continued  hurrying  along  behind  her,  wondering  where  she 
could  be  going  to,  and  they  thus  reached  the  Place  aux 
CEufs  together.  There,  Fine  suddenly  disappeared  in  a 
house,  and  Matheus  remained  for  a  few  minutes  in  the 
centre  of  the  square,  perplexed,  seeking  to  turn  the  pre- 
cautions the  Cayols  were  taking  to  his  advantage. 

Marius,  who  had  been  warned  by  his  brother  on  the 
previous  evening,  of  the  troubles  that  might  occur  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Prefecture,  had  decided  not  to  leave 
Joseph  in  the  house  on  the  Cours  Bonaparte.  He  had 
vague  fears  of  a  surprise ;  he  felt  that  M.  de  Cazalis  must 
be  there,  in  the  dark,  watching  for  the  first  opportunity 
that  occurred.  When  there  is  fighting  in  the  streets,  there 
are  often  burglaries  in  the  houses. 

Marius  consequently  thought  it  would  not  be  prudent 
to  keep  the  child  in  the  room  where  they  would  certainly 
come  to  look  for  him  in  case  an  attempt  were  made  to 
gain  possession  of  him,  and  he  arranged  with  Fine  that 
they  would  hide  him  somewhere  else,  no  later  than  the 
next  morning.  For  that  purpose  they  selected  the  little 
lodging  the  former  flower-girl  had  long  occupied  on  the 
Place  aux  CEufs  and  where  her  brother  Cadet  still  resided. 
While  Marius  was  running  about  the  streets  to  watch  over 
Philippe,  his  wife  had  just  come  to  seek  refuge  with  the 
child  in  a  corner  of  Marseilles  where  she  never  thought 
she  could  be  discovered.  As  she  ascended  the  stairs  she 
felt  quite  happy,  saying  to  herself  that  she  and  the  little 
one  were  saved. 

Matheus,  after  having  taken  two  or  three  turns  under 
the  trees,  approached  a  post  of  National  Guards  who 
were  at  a  corner  of  the  square.  This  post  was  occupied 
by  men  belonging  to  a  Republican  company  and  the  spy 
saw  at  once  with  whom  he  had  to  deal. 

"  It  seems  there  will  be  fighting  opposite  the  Prefec- 
ture," he  remarked  to  the  lieutenant. 

The  latter  feigned  not  to  hear.  After  an  instant  Matheus 
continued  : 

"  This  would  be  a  splendid  place  for  barricades !     Just 


THE   RIOT.  311 

look,    one    would    almost    think    the    ground    had    been 
specially  prepared  for  them." 

The  lieutenant  glanced  complaisantly  around  him  and 
ended  by  making  up  his  mind  to  speak. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  "there  would  only  be  a  few  narrow 
lanes  to  block.  The  workmen  are  our  brothers,  we  will 
not  fight  against  them." 

Matheus,  whom  the  lieutenant  had  mistaken  for  a  navvy, 
gave  him  a  vigorous  shake  of  the  hand  and  hurried 
away.  Chance  had  served  him  well :  his  plan  of  campaign 
was  now  complete.  When  he  reached  the  mansion  of 
M.  de  Cazalis  he  was  panting  for  breath. 

"All  is  going  on  well!"  he  exclaimed.  "I'll  be  answer- 
able for  success !" 

He  then  noticed  that  M.  de  Cazalis  was  wearing  the 
uniform  of  a  National  Guard. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  masquerade?"  he  inquired 
in  surprise.  "  I  came  to  advise  you  not  to  show  yourself," 

"I  cannot  keep  still,"  answered  the  ex-deputy;  "I'm 
too  impatient,  I  must  see  for  myself.  Let  us  go  down." 

They  went  down  and  Matheus  related  his  morning's 
work  to  his  master.  As  they  approached  the  Prefecture, 
they  heard  a  dull  and  terrible  sound,  the  first  roar  of  the  riot. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE   RIOT. 

WHILST  Matheus  had  been  following  Fine  and  had  called 
to  inform  M.  de  Cazalis  of  what  he  had  done,  the  column 
of  workmen  was  descending  towards  the  Cannebiere.  This 
column,  which  had  started  from  the  railway  station,  then 
only  comprised  a  few  hundred  workmen  ;  but  as  it  ad- 
vanced, it  recruited  all  whom  it  met  on  its  road.  Men 
and  women,  the  floating  population  of  the  streets,  were 
dragged  along  by  this  human  torrent  which  poured  down 
from  the  heights  of  Marseilles.  When  the  manifestation 
issued  from  the  Rue  de  Noailles,  it  extended  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  Cours  like  an  immense  flood.  Thousands  of 


312  THE    MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

heads  were  th  ere,  swaying  about  like  the  waves  of  a  human 
ocean. 

A  dull,  confused  sound,  similar  to  the  harsh  voice  of 
the  sea,  ran  through  the  ranks  of  this  multitude.  Still, 
it  was  frightfully  calm.  It  advanced  gloomy  and  mute, 
without  uttering  a  cry,  without  doing  any  damage.  It 
fell  upon,  swarmed  upon  Marseilles,  it  seemed  unconscious 
of  its  acts  and  appeared  to  obey  natural  laws  of  downfall 
and  passion.  An  enormous  rock  hurled  from  the  plain, 
would  thus  have  rolled  to  the  Port. 

White  and  blue  blouses  predominated  in  the  ranks. 
There  were  a  few  bright-coloured  skirts  of  women,  and 
from  distance  to  distance,  the  black  spots  of  coats :  dark 
clothes  worn  by  men  whom  the  people  seemed  to  obey. 
The  crowd  descended  the  Cannebiere  with  a  threatening 
murmur,  passing  between  the  rows  of  houses  like  a  running 
stream  full  of  multi-coloured  reflex. 

Philippe  marched  at  the  head  amidst  a  lot  of  workmen, 
with  his  head  thrown  back  and  a  harsh,  resolute  expres- 
sion on  his  countenance.  He  wore  a  black  frock  coat 
which  he  had  buttoned  up  closely,  and  which  fitted  him 
in  at  the  waist  like  a  military  tunic.  One  felt  he  was 
ready  for  the  struggle,  that  he  awaited  and  desired  it. 
His  eye  was  clear,  his  lips  were  firmly  set  together  and 
he  uttered  not  a  word.  The  pale,  silent  workmen  by  whom 
he  was  surrounded,  glanced  at  him  from  time  to  time 
and  seemed  to  be  awaiting  his  orders. 

As  the  column  entered  the  Rue  Saint  Ferreol,  there  was 
a  slight  tumult;  it  halted  for  one  or  two  minutes,  then 
marched  on  again.  The  street,  as  far  as  the  square  where 
it  ends,  was  empty,  a  few  shopkeepers  had  put  up  their 
shutters;  people  were  looking  out  from  the  windows;  there 
was  a  deathlike  silence,  broken  only  by  the  deep  sound 
of  the  tramp  of  the  crowd. 

In  the  middle  of  the  empty  street  and  at  the  corner 
of  a  narrow  thoroughfare  that  crossed  it,  those  who  were 
in  the  first  rank  perceived  a  short,  delicate-looking  man 
awaiting  the  column.  As  soon  as  Philippe  was  near  him, 
he  recognised  his  brother.  Marius  without  uttering  a 
word,  placed  himself  beside  him  and  walked  quietly  amidst 


THE   RIOT.  313 

the  rioters.  The  two  brothers  exchanged  a  simple  look. 
The  people  must  have  thought  they  were  strangers  to 
each  other. 

And  the  human  flood  continued  to  roll  on  thus  to  the 
Place  Saint  Ferreol. 

There,  at  a  few  yards  from  the  square,  further  advance 
was  arrested  by  a  cordon  of  troops.  The  crowd  was 
without  arms,  and  the  soldiers'  bayonets  glittered  in  the 
sun.  Murmurs  of  surprise  and  anger  ran  through  the  first 
ranks  and  rapidly  spread  from  one  end  to  the  other  of 
the  column,  the  tail  of  which  was  still  on  the  Cannebiere. 
The  workmen  said  in  a  low  angry  tone  that  they  wanted 
to  slaughter  them,  that  they  must  be  surrounded  by  troops 
and  that  the  manifestation  had  only  been  authorized,  in 
order  that  they  might  be  massacred  at  ease. 

While  these  murmurs  were  increasing,  four  delegates  left 
the  ranks  and  asked  to  be  taken  to  the  Commissary  of 
the  Government,  as  had  been  arranged  the  day  before. 
They  had  hardly  disappeared  behind  the  line  of  soldiers 
when  an  irreparable  event  occurred  attended  by  most 
sanguinary  consequences. 

When  those  at  the  tail  of  the  column  heard  talk  of 
troops  under  arms,  bayonets  and  masscare,  they  apparentlv 
thought  that  those  on  ahead  were  being  slaughtered,  and 
began  to  push  furiously  forward. 

Under  the  impulse  of  the  irresistible  movement  of  this 
mass  of  men,  the  group  surrounding  Philippe  were  compelled 
to  advance  a  few  steps.  With  their  arms  crossed  over 
their  breasts,  to  show  they  had  no  intention  of  making 
an  attack,  and  that  they  were  simply  yielding  to  pressure 
from  behind,  the  workmen  arrived  in  this  way  before  the 
soldiers.  An  officer  seeing  them  approach  lost  his  head 
and  abruptly  gave  the  command  to  lower  bayonets.  And 
the  bright  sharp  weapons  came  down  and  faced  the  people. 

A  desperate  attempt  was  made  to  retire.  Philippe  and 
those  around  him  threw  themselves  backward  endeavouring 
to  stem  the  enormous,  crushing  crowd  that  were  pushing 
them  on  to  death.  But  this  living  wall  could  not  be 
resisted.  It  advanced  solid  as  a  wall  of  stone.  The  workmen 
forcibly,  fatally,  reached  the  points  of  the  bayonets  which 


314  THE    MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

the  soldiers  held  ready  for  them.  They  saw  these  points 
at  their  breasts  and  felt  them  enter,  little  by  little,  into 
their  flesh. 

It  is  related  that  while  the  general  commanding  made  a 
despairing  gesture  and  ordered  the  bayonets  to  be  raised 
a  clear  voice  was  heard  to  shout  from  the  Place  Saint 
Ferreol:  "Stick  those  ruffians!  Stick  them!"  And,  from 
the  windows  of  a  neighbouring  aristocratic  club,  well  dressed 
gentlemen  applauded  at  the  sight  of  the  people's  blood 
flowing,  as  if  they  had  been  in  a  box  at  a  theatre  and 
were  amused  at  the  by-play  of  an  actor. 

The  workmen,  at  the  first  bayonet  wounds,  uttered 
cries  of  rage  and  terror.  This  crowd  which  had  hither- 
to been  silent,  became  mad  at  being  attacked  without 
any  legal  warning.  It  had  only  its  fists  to  protect  it 
against  the  muskets  by  which  it  was  threatened. 

Philippe  was  not  wounded  thanks  to  Marius,  who  held 
him  back  at  the  moment  when  he  was  committing  the 
folly  of  throwing  himself  forward  with  clenched  fists.  A 
few  workmen  around  him  were  slightly  hurt.  One  only 
had  his  arm  run  through. 

At  the  general's  word  of  command,  the  soldiers  had 
raised  their  bayonets  and  retired  step  by  step,  but  the 
crowd  had  suddenly  stopped  on  realizing  the  fact  that  it 
was  without  arms  A  shudder  ran  through  the  column 
from  one  end  to  the  other.  All  at  once  it  disbanded, 
rushing  into  the  cross  streets  with  the  cry :  "  Vengeance ! 
Vengeance !  They  are  murdering  our  brothers !  " 

For  an  instant  there  was  a  terrible  noise;  then  the 
clamour  died  away:  the  workmen  went  off  in  search  of 
arms,  calling  for  assistance,  spreading  terror  and  anger  in 
each  street  and  always  uttering  the  painful  and  formidable 
cry:  "They  are  murdering  our  brothers!  Vengeance! 
Vengeance ! " 

At  that  moment  M.  de  Cazalis  and  Matheus  were 
descending  the  Cours  Bonaparte.  The  sullen  rumble  that 
they  heard  was  the  rush  of  the  mob.  Matheus  understood 
that  here  was  a  rupture  and  joyfully  rubbed  his  hands. 
To  ascertain  the  truth  he  stopped  a  peaceful  bourgeois 
who  was  flying  in  terror,  impatient  to  shut  himself  up  at  home. 


THE   RIOT.  315 

"Oh!  sir,"  he  stammered  out  in  answer  to  the  inquiry, 
"  they  are  killing  one  another  over  there.  The  soldiers  have 
charged  the  people,  and  the  people  will  set  fire  to  the 
city,  that's  sure." 

And   he   fled,  fancying  he  saw  the  flames  behind  him. 

"Well!  What  did  I  tell  you?"  said  Matheus  to  M.  de 
Cazalis,  "I  knew  very  well  we  should  be  able  to  take 
advantage  of  circumstances.  Here  we  are  in  the  midst 
of  a  revolution.  We  must  attend  to  our  little  business." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  asked  the  ex-deputy  in 
an  undertone. 

"  Oh !  what  I  am  going  to  do  is  very  simple.  Now  the 
people  are  mad,  I  can  lead  them  along  as  I  like.  It  will 
suffice  if  they  fight  at  the  place  I  shall  take  them  to." 

And  as  M.  de  Cazalis  did  not  understand  but  gave  him 
an  inquiring  look,  the  spy  added : 

"  Trust  to  me.  I  have  not  time  to  explain  all  to  you. 
A  nnal  word :  I  advise  you  to  take  advantage  of  your 
disguise  to  mix  with  a  company  of  National  Guards.  If 
you  see  a  barricade  anywhere,  march  with  the  troops  that 
attack  it." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  impatient  and  curious  ? 
Then  do  what  I  tell  you:  you  will  be  in  the  first  row." 

Matheus  chuckled  and  looking  his  master  straight  in 
the  face,  continued : 

"  You  understand,  you  might  find  Philippe  at  the  end 
of  the  barrel  of  your  musket.  Don't  go  and  miss  him ; 
and  no  bad  joke,  don't  fire  at  me  so  as  to  free  yourself 
of  my  personality.  That's  understood.  When  the  barricade 
is  taken  I'll  show  you  how  I  work." 

Matheus  hurried  rapidly  away.  He  was  impatient  to 
go  and  embroil  matters.  As  he  followed  the  Rue  Grignan 
to  enter  the  Rue  Saint  Ferreol  and  mix  with  the  retiring 
workmen,  he  saw  two  men  talking  together  on  the  pavement, 
and  recognised  Marius  and  Philippe. 

"Wait,  wait,"  he  murmured  as  he  ran  along,  "I  think  I 
shall  be  able  to  make  you  come  and  fight  with  us." 

Marius  was  beseeching  Philippe  not  to  compromise 
himself  any  further.  He  reminded  him  of  his  son,  of  the 


3l6  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

happiness  of  all  of  them,  and  as  his  brother  showed  signs 
of  impatience  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Well !  So  let  it  be !  let  us  not  speak  of  ourselves.  But 
do  you  not  see  that  the  insurrection  which  is  about  to 
break  out  cannot  succeed  ?  The  desire  of  a  good  patriot 
should  be  to  avoid  the  effusion  of  blood,  when  fighting 
is  contrary  to  the  interests  of  all.  I  think  I  serve  the 
country  better  than  you,  by  preaching  peace." 

"They  have  tried  to  murder  our  brothers,"  answered 
Philippe,  in  a  sullen  voice,  "  we  must  have  vengeance.  We 
did  not  commence.  Look  here,  shall  I  tell  you?  We 
don't  want  any  more  of  this  bourgeois  Republic;  we  want 
a  Republic  of  our  own,  a  Republic  of  the  people.  Don't 
answer,  it's  useless.  If  the  people  fight,  I  shall  fight." 

"  But,  unfortunate  being  that  you  are  !  you  are  ruining 
yourself  and  your  friends  themselves  by  encouraging 
them  with  your  presence,  by  leading  them  to  certain  im- 
prisonment. Remember  what  M.  Martelly  told  you." 

Marius,  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  endeavoured 
to  influence  his  brother  with  arguments  such  as  these, 
but  the  latter  stood  there  with  cloudy  brow  and  sparkling 
eyes,  and  hardly  listened  to  him.  All  at  once  Philippe  seized 
his  arm  and  compelled  him  to  be  silent.  The  sharp  crack 
of  musketry  was  heard  at  the  bottom  of  the  Rue  Saint 
Ferreol. 

"Do  you  hear?"  he  exclaimed,  excitedly,  "  they're  firing 
on  unarmed  men  who  ask  for  justice  !  And  you  wish  me 
to  stand  by  quietly,  while  that  is  going  on,  you  want  me 
to  be  a  coward  ! " 

He  went  a  few  steps ;  then,  turning  round,  continued 
more  softly. 

"If  I'm  killed  you'll  watch  over  Joseph.     Adieu!" 

Marius  hastened  to  join  him. 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  he  said  quietly. 

The  two  young  men  descended  the  Reu  Saint  Ferreol  in 
all  haste.  On  reaching  the  Rue  Vacon,  they  heard  the 
firing  on  their  right  and  proceeded  rapidly  to  the  Rue  de 
Rome.  There,  they  were  in  the  midst  of  the  battle. 

Matheus,  on  mixing  with  the  workmen  had  begun  to 
shout  for  vengeance  louder  than  the  others,  and  thus 


THE   RIOT.  317 

gathered  a  group  of  the  most  hot-headed  round  him.  This 
party  descended  the  Rue  Saint  Ferreol  singing  the  Mar- 
seillaise, and  ended  by  stopping  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue 
Pizancon,  to  listen  to  Matheus,  who  demanded  silence  with 
a  motion  of  the  hand. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "it's  stupid  to  sing,  we  must  act. 
If  we  run  about  the  streets  in  this  way  we  shall  meet  with 
soldiers  who  will  either  kill  us  or  make  us  prisoners." 

The  crowd  uttered  a  cry  of  rage. 

"  Let  us  avenge  our  brothers,"  resumed  Matheus.  "  Blood 
calls  for  blood." 

"Yes,  yes!"  howled  the  workmen.  "To  the  barricades! 
to  the  barricades  !" 

At  that  moment  Matheus  glanced  towards  the  upper 
part  of  the  street  and  perceived  a  company  of  National 
Guards  advancing  with  a  heavy  tread. 

"You  see,  brothers,"  he  exclaimed,  "they  are  sending 
these  men  to  massacre  us.  We  will  defend  ourselves  to 
the  last!" 

The  people  were  intoxicated,  they  shook  their  fists  at  the 
National  Guards  and  looked  for  stones  to  throw  at  them. 

"No,  not  here,  we  could  not  hold  out  for  five  minutes," 
said  Matheus.  "Come!" 

The  workmen  followed  him.  They  wanted  a  chief  and 
they  chose  this  man  because  he  spoke  of  massacre.  They 
ran  to  the  Rue  de  Rome.  Just  then  three  large  empty 
carts  were  passing  along  the  street.  The  spy  sprang  to 
the  head  of  the  first  horse,  and  notwithstanding  the  carter's 
cries  ordered  his  men  to  unharness  it.  Then,  when  that 
was  done,  he  said  to  the  driver  : 

"Take  away  your  horses.  The  people  want  the  carts. 
They'll  pay  you  if  they  conquer." 

Turning  towards  the  crowd  he  pointed  to  the  Rue  de 
la  Palud  which  fared  them  and  added  : 

"  Quick,  shove  these  carts  along  and  turn  them  over 
on  the  side,  across  this  street.  Search  in  the  adjoining 
shops  and  see  if  you  can't  find  something  to  add  to  the 
barricade." 

In  five  minutes  the  obstruction  was  raised.  It  was 
only  composed  of  three  carts  and  a  few  empty  barrels 


318  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

which  had  been  found  in  a  neighbouring  cellar.  It 
was  foolish  to  think  seriously  of  defending  themselves 
there.  But  the  rioters  were  mad  with  irritation,  they  did 
not  even  trouble  to  reflect  that  they  had  no  arms,  and 
were  about  to  be  riddled  with  bullets  without  being  able 
to  respond. 

Matheus  silently  enjoyed  the  fun.  At  the  bottom  of 
his  heart  he  was  not  sorry  to  get  some  of  his  good 
friends,  the  workmen,  killed,  for  they  had  been  wearying 
him  profoundly  during  the  past  four  months  with  their 
humanitarian  speeches.  Besides,  there  must  be  at  least 
one  corpse  in  order  for  his  plans  to  be  successful,  and 
for  that  reason  he  had  taken  care  that  the  barricade  should 
be  full  of  holes  so  that  the  bullets  might  pass  through  it. 

A  deathlike  silence  reigned  around.  The  workmen, 
lying  flat  on  the  ground,  waited.  All  of  a  sudden,  they 
heard  the  heavy,  measured  tread  of  a  company  advancing 
in  the  Rue  de  Rome.  Then  only  did  they  remember  that 
they  had  no  arms.  Furiously  they,  commenced  tearing 
the  stones  out  of  the  road :  flat,  sharp  stones  that  would 
play  terrible  havoc. 

The  heavy,  measured  tread  became  more  and  more 
distinct.  At  last,  the  company  which  the  workmen  had 
already  seen  behind  them,  appeared  at  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  de  Rome.  Captain  Sauvaire  who  was  marching 
at  the  head,  stopped  anxiously  before  the  barricade. 
At  the  same  moment  a  shower  of  stones  fell  on  the 
National  Guards.  Men  were  wounded  and  the  captain's 
shako  was  smashed  in  with  a  large  flint. 

The  company  retreated  a  few  steps  at  this  sudden 
attack.  Stones  continued  to  arrive  falling  one  by  one 
into  the  body  of  men  with  dull  thuds.  Then  a  police 
commissary  left  the  ranks  and  read  aloud  the  three, 
legal  summonses  to  disperse,  amidst  profound  silence, 
The  rioters,  who  had  expended  all  their  store  of  stones 
were  again  lying  down  tearing  up  the  road  and  preparing 
for  the  struggle,  without  even  listening  to  the  summonses. 

As  they  rose,  the  police  commissary  withdrew,  the 
muzzles  of  the  muskets  were  lowered  and  a  shower  of 
bullets  passed  over  the  barricade.  They  had  only  just 


THE   RIOT.  319 

time  to  stoop  down,  to  hide  in  the  recesses  of  the  door- 
ways, anywhere,  in  fact,  where  they  could  find  shelter. 
None  of  them  were  wounded.  Their  rage  was  such  that 
they  did  not  think  of  flight;  they  continued  throwing 
stones,  hiding  themselves  as  best  they  could.  The  badly- 
aimed  shots  passed  over  their  heads  or  were  lost  at  the 
base  of  the  barricade. 

Matheus  had  prudently  found  shelter  behind  a  huge 
cask.  From  there  he  encouraged  his  men,  furious  at  the 
clumsiness  of  the  National  Guards  and  endeavouring  to 
place  the  workmen  in  the  line  of  fire. 

He  murmured  between  his  teeth : 

"You'll  see  that  not  one  of  those  wretches  will  get 
killed!" 

He  was  not  without  feeling  a  certain  terror.  He  knew 
better  than  anyone  that  the  barricade  would  be  captured 
as  soon  as  the  National  Guards  chose,  and  he  disliked 
falling  into  their  hands,  as  that  would  have  put  a  sudden 
stop  to  the  exploits  he  meditated.  He  wanted  a  corpse, 
nothing  more :  after  that  he  would  fly  as  fast  as  his  legs 
could  carry  him.  The  misfortune  was  that  none  of  the 
rioters  seemed  disposed  to  get  killed. 

For  five  long  minutes  he  remained  behind  his  cask, 
sweating  with  fear  and  anxiety.  The  firing  continued, 
causing  splinters  of  wood  to  flv  about  and  riddling  the 
carts  with  bullets.  The  workmen  did  not  dare  leave  their 
hiding  place.  At  last  one  of  them  decided  to  risk  his 
presence  in  the  middle  of  the  street  to  gather  a  new  lot 
of  stones.  He  slid  along  behind  the  barricade,  taking 
advantage  of  every  bit  of  shelter. 

Matheus  followed  his  movements  with  glittering  eyes. 
He  felt  this  man  would  be  the  victim  he  so  much  desired. 

"Here's  my  man,"  he  thought.  "  If  he  passes  in  front 
of  that  gap,  which  I  took  care  to  leave  open,  he  will  be 
shot  down." 

He  had  noticed  that  during  the  last  few  moments,  bullets 
had  been  pouring  through  the  aperture  in  question.  As 
the  workman  had  quietly  set  about  tearing  up  paving 
stones,  he  beckoned  him  with  energetic  gestures  to  approach. 
The  man,  without  the  least  distrust,  thinking  the  chief 


320  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

had  something  important  to  tell  him,  began  crawling  along 
slowly  behind  the  barricade.  The  time  came  when  he 
found  himself  opposite  the  breach.  Eight  or  ten  bullets 
entered  his  body  and  laid  him  low.  He  struggled  atrociously, 
then  remained  quiet,  with  his  face  towards  the  earth. 

Then,  Matheus  uttered  a  terrible  cry,  and  all  the  rioters 
dashed  into  the  middle  of  the  street  howling  with  exaspera- 
tion. The  National  Guards  ceased  firing,  thinking  that 
those  who  were  at  the  barricade  yielded.  The  spy  took 
advantage  of  that  circumstance  to  carry  off  the  corpse. 
He  called  for  assistance,  placed  the  dead  body  on  the 
workmen's  shoulders  and  crying  aloud  for  vengeance,  put 
himself  at  their  head. 

"  To  arms !  let  the  people  know  that  the  Guard  fires 
upon  unarmed  men.  To  arms!  to  arms!  They  are  murder- 
ing our  brothers !  " 

And  in  a  low  undertone  he  said  to  himself: 

"  I  have  my  corpse,  the  people  will  fight." 

The  party  he  was  leading  fled  by  the  Rue  de  la  Palud, 
and  their  retreat  was  marked  by  their  cries,  as  they  bore 
away  the  body  of  their  dead  brother  like  a  standard  of 
horror  and  revolt. 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  Marius  and  Philippe  arrived 
at  the  scene  of  the  encounter.  They  found  the  company 
of  National  Guards  stationed  in  the  middle  of  the  Rue  de 
Rome  among  the  remains  of  the  three  carts,  looking 
very  much  embarrassed  at  their  victory;  for  they  had 
imagined  they  had  to  deal  with  at  least  a  hundred  men, 
and  were  quite  confused  on  ascertaining  that  for  nearly 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  they  had  been  keeping  up  a  brisk 
fire  against  only  about  a  dozen  poor  wretches.  They  felt 
the  horrible  and  sanguinary  absurdity  of  their  mistake. 

Captain  Sauvaire  was  exasperated.  At  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  what  irritated  him  the  most,  was  the  terrible 
blow  his  shako  had  received  at  the  commencement  of 
the  action.  He  considered  himself  attained  in  the  dignity 
of  his  uniform,  and  feared  that  all  the  prestige  of  his 
beautiful  costume  was  escaping  by  the  hole  made  by  the 
revolutionary  stone  of  an  insurgent. 

Marius,    on   recognising   him,    hastened    up   to   him,  to 


THE   RIOT.  321 

obtain  some  information  as  to  what  had  occurred.  But 
the  ex-master  stevedore  did  not  give  him  time  to  ques- 
tion him. 

"What  do  you  think  of  those  blackguards,"  he  shouted, 
"  who  attack  us  with  stones  ?  The  jackasses  have  not  even 
guns.  Hold  on!  Look  here!" 

And  he  held  out  his  shako,  on  which  the  gilded  metal 
ornament  was  broken. 

"A  bullet  would  only  have  made  a  small  hole,"  he 
resumed.  "Now  I  shall  be  obliged  to  purchase  a  new 
shako.  These  things  are  very  expensive." 

"  Could  you  tell  me —  ?  "  began  Marius. 

But  Sauvaire  would  not  allow  him  to  finish  his  sentence. 
He  took  him  aside,  placed  his  damaged  shako  on  his 
head,  and  said: 

"  Speak  frankly.  Doesn't  this  perforated  headgear  spoil 
the  look  of  me?  Ah!  Brutes  of  Republicans!  I'll  make 
them  pay  dearly  for  their  stone!  " 

Marius  profited  by  his  anger  to  at  last  ask  a  question: 

"  But  what  has  occurred  ?  " 

"Eh!  we've  killed  one.  So  much  the  better!  They 
werer  there  behind  those  carts,  two  or  three  hundred, 
perhaps  a  thousand.  We  got  the  better  of  them  after  an 
hour's  furious  fighting.  You  see  that  pool  of  blood  in  the 
street.  For  sure  one  of  them  must  be  dead.  That  will 
teach  them  to  throw  stones  at  the  National  Guard.  Order! 
Order  before  everything!" 

Marius  was  about  to  leave  him  when  he  caught  him 
by  the  button-hole  of  his  coat. 

"In  reality,"  he  added,  in  a  voice  weak  with  feeling; 
"  I  am  sorry  of  the  death  of  this  poor  fellow.  It  was 
perhaps  not  he  who  threw  the  stone.  Oh !  if  I  were 
certain  it  were  he !  Just  now,  when  I  saw  blood  on  the 
ground,  I  felt  a  peculiar  feeling.  After  all,  order " 

The  young  man  left  him  talking  and  joined  his  brother 
who  was  standing  a  few  paces  off.  He  felt  extremely  sad 
at  what  he  had  just  heard.  This  blood  would  fall  upon 
the  heads  of  those  who  had  spilt  it. 

"Well?"  asked  Philippe. 

Marius   did    not   answer  at  once.      He   could  not  hide 

21 


322  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

what  had  happened  from  his  brother,  and  he  hesitated 
to  tell  him  of  it,  expecting  a  terrible  outburst  of  passion. 
They  took  a  few  steps  in  silence. 

"You  don't  answer,"  said  Philippe  in  a  gloomy  manner. 
"  Behind  those  carts,  there  were  corpses,  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"No,"  murmured  Marius,  making  up  his  mind  to  tell 
the  truth.  "  Only  one  workman  was  killed." 

"Eh!  what  matters  the  number?"  violently  interrupted 
the  Republican.  "  My  duty  is  now  traced  out  for  me. 
The  struggle  is  inevitable.  You'll  not  ask  me  to  remain 
quietly  at  home  any  more.  That  would  be  cowardly.  I 
have  hesitated  too  long,  I'm  going  to  join  those  I  swore 
to  defend,  if  ever  they  were  attacked." 

The  two  brothers  while  talking,  had  reached  the  Cours 
Saint  Louis.  Their  further  progress  was  barred  by  an 
immense  crowd.  There  the  riot  was  fermenting. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
IN    WHICH   MATHEUS   COMPLETES   HIS   WORK. 

THE  delegates  who  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the 
Commissary  of  the  government,  had  only  been  able  to 
obtain  a  letter  from  him  in  which  he  supported  the  men's 
desire  to  work  only  ten  hours  a  day.  But  this  letter  came 
too  late.  The  delegates  might  well  show  it  to  the  parties 
they  met,  but  the  word  "vengeance"  was  now  on  every 
tongue  and  the  people  declared  that  blood  called  for  blood. 

Besides,  as  generally  happens,  the  causes  of  the  struggle 
that  was  in  preparation  escaped  the  majority.  The  greater 
part  of  the  population  were  ignorant  of  the  object  of  the 
riot;  there  was  rage  and  terror  in  the  air,  that  was  all. 
While  the  beating  to  arms  sounded  lugubriously  in  the 
streets,  and  the  National  Guards  hastened  to  their  posts, 
people  questioned  one  another  not  knowing  who  was  the 
enemy  against  whom  they  were  arming. 

A  company  composed  of  stevedores,  having  heard  it 
stated  that  this  enemy  was  the  people,  refused  to  march; 
notwithstanding  the  hopes  that  had,  perhaps,  been  enter- 


MATHEUS   COMPLETES   HIS   WORK.  323 

tained  in  Conservative  quarters,  these  workmen  would  not 
fire  on  workmen. 

The  people  were  in  revolt,  that  was  the  only  certainty 
that  spread  among  the  crowd.  Why  were  they  in  revolt? 
What  did  they  want?  No  one  could  answer.  The  work- 
men themselves  were  no  longer  acting  on  the  motives  that 
had  brought  them  to  the  Prefecture;  they  were  now  solely 
led  on  by  anger.  The  struggle  had  become  personal 
without  any  hidden  thought  of  political  insurrection.  If 
some  interested  leaders  had  not  urged  the  people  on  to 
violence,  it  is  very  likely  all  would  have  ended  in  shouts 
and  threats. 

The  Place  Royale,  which  since  February  had  been 
named  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  became  the  centre  of 
the  movement.  Some  Republican  companies  had  made 
it  their  headquarters.  As  soon  as  the  news  of  the  fight 
which  had  just  taken  place  at  the  barricade  in  the  Rue 
de  la  Palud,  had  spread  among  the  groups  assembled  on 
the  Cours  and  Cannebiere,  the  workmen  advanced  in  a 
crowd  towards  these  companies  and  inquired  whether  they 
also  were  going  to  march  against  them.  The  gathering 
was  soon  considerable:  the  events  of  the  morning  were 
related  with  furious  exclamations  and  the  names  given  of 
those  who  had  been  killed  or  wounded  by  the  troops  and 
National  Guard.  These  accounts  excited  those  who  heard 
them  and  the  tumult  continued  to  increase.  But  the 
crowd  did  not  move,  confining  itself  to  shouting  and 
calling  for  vengeance.  It  required  another  shock  to  throw 
it  into  open  revolt. 

At  this  moment,  the  General  commanding  the  National 
Guard  made  a  supreme  effort.  He  went  into  the  midst 
of  the  people  endeavouring  to  pacify  their  minds  bv 
gentle  words. 

This  General  was  not  popular.  He  was  taxed  rightly  or 
wrongly  with  being  hostile  to  the  Republic.  He  had 
unfortunately  gathered  around  him  a  staff  chosen  in  the 
ranks  of  the  reaction.  To  the  crowd  he  was  unknown, 
and  the  people,  blind  with  anger,  made  him  responsible 
for  the  deplorable  events  that  were  occurring.  No  one 
had  noticed  his  gesture  of  despair  in  the  Rue  Saint  Ferrcol 


324  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

when  the  soldiers  had  crossed  bayonets  without  his  order. 
As  soon  as  he  made  his  appearance,  he  was  surrounded 
by  exasperated  men  who  reviled  him  and  accused  him  of 
all  the  misfortunes  of  the  morning.  He  remained  calm, 
did  not  seek  to  defend  himself,  confining  his  remarks  to 
promising  the  people  all  possible  satisfaction  and  beseeching 
them  not  to  bring  about  still  greater  trouble.  But  it  was 
necessary  for  the  Republican  companies  to  come  to  his 
assistance.  He  withdrew  pronouncing  words  of  peace  in 
a  loud,  firm  voice.  After  his  departure  the  tumult,  instead 
of  subsiding,  increased. 

Then  an  officer  of  police  appeared  and  summoned  the 
crowd  to  withdraw.  At  the  same  time  the  companies  re- 
ceived orders  to  go  and  post  themselves  on  the  Cannebiere  ; 
one  of  them  closed  the  street  in  its  entire  breadth,  another 
drew  up  on  the  left  hand  pavement.  But  this  movement 
did  not  have  the  effect  of  displacing  the  centre  of  the 
gathering.  The  Cours  Saint  Louis  and  the  Cannebiere 
were  invaded.  At  every  instant  the  lines  of  the  National 
Guards  were  broken  and  swarms  of  people  passed  through 
them.  The  crowd  became  a  crush  and  the  clamour  more 
violent.  The  least  thing  would  have  caused  an  explosion. 

All  at  once  a  hubbub  burst  forth  on  the  Cours  Saint 
Louis.  The  procession  in  which  the  body  of  the  work- 
man killed  in  the  Rue  de  la  Palud,  was  being  carried, 
and  at  the  head  of  which  marched  Matheus,  had  just  left 
the  Rue  d'Aubagne.  Matheus  had  torn  his  clothes  to  make 
believe  in  a  hand-to-hand  struggle,  and  had  placed  him- 
self in  the  first  rank  howling,  black  with  dust  and  fu- 
riously shaking  his  red  wig.  Four  men  followed  him  bearing 
the  body,  the  arms  and  legs  of  which  were  dangling  down 
and  swinging  about  in  a  horrible  way.  The  head  which 
was  thrown  back,  displayed  a  horrible  wound  that  had 
carried  away  half  the  cheek.  Then  came  the  little  party 
who  had  defended  the  barricade,  with  their  eyes  darting 
out  of  their  heads  and  beside  themselves  with  the  mad 
race  Matheus  had  made  them  take  in  the  streets  of  the 
city.  And  all  shouted  :  "  Vengeance !  Vengeance !  "  in  a 
hoarse,  heart-rending  voice. 

The  effect  produced  by  this  procession  was  overwhelming. 


MATHEUS  COMPLETES  HIS  WORK.          325 

Matheus,  guessing  the  Cours  and  Cannebiere  would  be 
full  of  people,  had  arranged  so  as  to  produce  a  final 
dramatic  stroke.  It  was  for  that  reason  he  had  led  his 
followers  through  all  the  narrow  streets,  before  bringing 
them  suddenly  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd.  He  wanted  to 
give  the  gathering  time  to  form  and  he  sought  above  all, 
to  fatigue  his  men,  to  deprive  them  of  sound  judgment, 
to  turn  them  into  furious  maniacs,  whom  he  would  then 
cast  to  the  four  corners  of  the  city  to  bring  out  the  entire 
population. 

As  soon  as  the  procession  had  left  the  Rue  d'Aubagne, 
the  crowd  opened  violently  before  him,  with  cries  of 
rage  and  horror.  There  was  a  crush  which  threw  the 
on-lookers  against  the  houses,  and  the  funeral  procession, 
amidst  the  fury  and  terror  it  excited  on  every  side,  went 
straight  ahead,  piercing  the  crowd,  tracing  a  broad  road, 
which  closed  behind  it  amidst  frightful  tumult. 

On  reaching  the  upper  end  of  the  Cannebiere  the  proces- 
sion broke  the  line  of  National  Guards  who  were  barring 
the  street,  and  passed  through  the  crowd  assembled  on 
the  pavement,  to  the  Place  de  la  Republique.  The  effect 
produced  on  this  second  gathering  was  terrible  in  the 
extreme. 

These  few  bleeding  men  seemed  to  cast  burning  embers 
around  them  as  they  marched  along. 

Matheus  allowed  the  procession  to  be  lost  in  the  old 
town  and  ran  rapidly  uphill  towards  the  Cours  Saint 
Louis.  As  he  crossed  it,  he  perceived  in  a  cafe  which 
was  then  undergoing  repairs,  some  National  Guards  who 
had  taken  refuge  there  in  order  to  save  themselves  from 
being  torn  to  pieces  by  the  mob.  He  returned,  so  as 
to  put  in  action  a  plan  that  the  sight  of  the  National 
Guards  had  instilled  into  him.  His  sole  anxiety  consisted 
in  seeing  the  workmen  without  arms,  because  the  struggle 
would  only  be  serious  from  the  moment  the  people  had 
guns.  If  a  few  shots  were  not  immediately  exchanged, 
the  crowd  might  be  dompted  and  muzzled.  It  was  the 
want  of  arms  that  alone  delayed  the  insurrection. 

So  soon  as  he  reached  the  Cours  Saint  Louis  again,  he 
mixed  with  the  groups  of  people  who  were  still  excited 


326  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

at  the  view  of  the  funeral  procession,  and  he  drew  atten- 
tion to  the  cafe  where  the  municipal  troops  were. 

"They  are  Carlists,"  he  exclaimed.  "Down  with  the 
National  Guard ! " 

That  cry  found  a  responding  echo  in  the  crowd.  Every- 
one turned  towards  the  cafe,  every  mouth  began  to  revile 
and  threaten  those  who  had  taken  refuge  there. 

"I  know  them,"  shouted  Matheus,  "they  belong  to  the 
company  who  fired  on  us  in  the  Rue  de  la  Palud." 

This  statement  was  false,  but  who  could  deny  it  amidst 
such  confusion.  The  cries  became  louder,  and  the  most 
daring  began  to  pick  up  stones  and  to  cast  them  at  the 
windows  where  they  saw  the  National  Guards.  The  latter 
were  guilty  of  the  imprudence  of  pointing  their  muskets 
at  the  people.  Then  the  crowd  lost  their  heads  and 
rushed  toward  the  cafe.  Matheus  was  ahead  and  shouted : 

"  We  want  muskets.     Let  us  disarm  them !  " 

Philippe  and  Marius  had  been  standing  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  at  the  entrance  to  the  Rue  de  Rome.  Being 
unable  to  advance  to  the  first  ranks,  they  had  confined 
themselves  to  following  the  mob  in  a  most  excited  frame 
of  mind,  and  had  seen  the  lugubrious  procession  go  by 
with  the  dead  workman. 

"  Look !  "  Philippe  exclaimed,  simply  pressing  his  brother's 
arm  vigorously. 

And  he  resumed  savage  silence.  Then,  when  the 
National  Guards  pointed  their  muskets  at  the  people,  he 
dashed  forward,  without  uttering  a  word  and  rushed  with 
the  mob  to  the  assault  of  the  cafe. 

He  and  Marius,  who  had  followed  him  step  by  step, 
entered  the  cafe  almost  at  the  same  time  as  Matheus. 
The  rooms  above  were  invaded  in  a  few  seconds,  the 
National  Guards  being  prudent  enough  not  to  offer  any 
serious  resistance  and  allowing  themselves  to  be  disarmed 
by  the  first  who  entered. 

Philippe  seized  two  muskets  and  presented  one  to  his 
brother. 

"No,"  said  the  latter.     "I  don't  fight  with  Frenchmen." 

Philippe  gave  a  gesture  of  impatience  and  hurried  off 
to  the  Cours,  without  even  looking  to  see  if  Marius  was 


MATHEUS    COMPLETES   HIS   WORK.  327 

following  him.  The  latter,  none  the  less,  went  after  him, 
unable  to  make  up  his  mind  to  leave  him,  and  still 
hoping  to  save  him  from  the  scrimmage. 

The  excitement  was  intense  on  the  Cours  and  Canne- 
biere.  The  few  rioters  who  had  succeeded  in  procuring 
muskets  by  disarming  the  National  Guard,  ran  and  mixed 
with  the  Republican  companies  massed  on  the  pavement. 
Philippe  stopped  before  the  Hotel  des  Empereurs,  at  one 
or  two  paces  from  Matheus. 

It  was  just  at  that  moment  that  the  General  made 
another  attempt  at  conciliation.  He  showed  himself  again 
in  the  crowd  preaching  concord.  By  a  fatal  error  the 
people  continued  to  regard  him  as  the  only  person  guilty 
of  the  accidents  in  the  morning.  As  he  was  passing 
before  the  Hotel  des  Empereurs,  some  men  sprang  at 
the  bridle  of  his  horse  and  a  crowd  formed  round  him 
insulting  and  threatening  him,  while  a  few  National  Guards 
tried  in  vain  to  release  him. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Matheus  looked  to  see  if  his  gun 
was  loaded.  His  eyes  shone,  and  an  ugly  smile  distorted 
his  features.  A  new  idea  had  just  occurred  to  him  to 
hurry  on  events.  Hiding  behind  the  crowd,  he  aimed 
at  the  General  who  was  opposite  him.  The  gun  went 
off  and  there  was  then  a  tremendous  outcry.  The  General 
quietly  wiped  away  with  his  hand,  the  few  drops  of 
blood  the  bullet  had  drawn  from  him  in  grazing  his  cheek. 

Matheus'  shot  was  followed  by  several  others,  which 
completed  the  panic.  The  simple  on-lookers  rushed  away 
in  disorder,  quite  terrified,  and  expecting  to  be  riddled 
with  bullets  in  their  flight.  The  rioters  moved  off  with 
the  cry : 

"To  the  barricades!  to  the  barricades!" 

It  looked  as  if  an  angry  breeze  were  sweeping  the 
crowd  away.  The  lines  of  National  Guards  were  broken, 
and  the  companies  dispersed  by  the  torrent  bearing  them 
along.  In  less  than  two  minutes,  the  Cannebiere  and 
Cours  were  deserted. 

The  General  had  withdrawn  looking  pale  and  sad. 
Matheus  had  disappeared  as  if  by  enchantment.  Philippe 
full  of  indignation,  had  dashed  in  vain  to  the  spot  where 


328  THE   MYSTERIES  OF   MARSEILLES. 

a  streak  of  smoke  revealed  the  assassin's  presence ;  but  he 
was  only  able  to  distinguish  an  indistinct  form  stooping 
down  and  fleeing. 

When  the  little  square  was  empty,  and  as  the  drums 
broke  the  frightful  silence  of  the  streets,  Marius  dragged 
his  brother  towards  the  Place  aux  CEufs,  where  their 
happiness  was  hidden.  As  they  entered  the  Grande  Rue, 
they  perceived  parties  of  workmen  occupying  the  square 
and  raising  barricades.  Marius  stifled  a  cry  of  anguish. 

It  was  then  about  noon. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  BARRICADES  AT  THE   PLACE    AUX   CEUFS. 

WHILE  the  crowd  were  flying  and  dispersing  in  terror, 
Philippe  and  Marius  had  remained,  for  a  few  instants, 
near  the  Hotel  des  Empereurs,  sheltered  in  the  recess  of 
a  doorway,  so  as  not  to  be  dragged  along  by  the  rush  of 
the  multitude. 

Philippe  felt  all  his  sentiments  of  loyalty  revolting  within 
him,  at  the  cowardly  attempt  that  had  been  made  on  the 
General's  life,  and  his  brother,  who  could  read  this  indignation 
on  his  countenance,  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to 
make  a  final  effort  to  persuade  him  to  throw  off  his  connection 
with  civil  war. 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone  Marius  said: 

"  Well !  do  you  mean  to  continue  making  common  cause 
with  these  assassins  ?  " 

"There  are  scoundrels  in  all  parties,"  Philippe  answered 
sullenly. 

"  I  know  it,  but  an  insurrection  is  fatally  doomed  when 
it  commences  under  such  auspices.  Come  with  me,  I 
beseech  you,  do  not  compromise  yourself  any  further." 

The  two  brothers  had  begun  slowly  ascending  towards 
the  Cours.  Marius  taking  Philippe  that  way,  so  as  to  bring 
him  to  the  room  where  he  had  hidden  his  child ;  he  said 
to  himself,  that  once  there,  he  would  retain  him  and  save 
him  in  spite  of  himself. 


BARRICADES   AT   THE   PLACE   AUX   CEUFS.         329 

"Fine  and  Joseph  have  found  refuge  near  here,"  he 
said,  as  they  walked  along,  "  I  advised  my  wife  to  pass 
the  day  with  your  son  in  the  little  lodging  on  the  Place 
aux  CEufs,  so  as  to  be  beyond  reach  of  a  surprise,  which 
could  easily  be  accomplished  during  the  troubles  of  this 
day.  Come  along,  we'll  only  remain  a  few  minutes  if 
you  like." 

Philippe  followed  his  brother  without  answering.  He 
recalled  M.  Martelly's  severe  language;  the  shot  that  had 
wounded  the  General  still  resounded  in  his  ears,  he 
stiffened  his  neck,  he  would  not  abandon  the  people's 
cause,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  began  to  hear  the 
grave  voice  of  reason,  which  whispered  to  him  not  to  mix 
in  a  useless  and  sanguinary  outbreak.  Besides,  he  ignored 
what  was  passing;  all,  perhaps,  was  over;  the  workmen  might 
be  raising  barricades  in  distant  streets,  and  these  would 
be  captured  before  they  had  time  to  defend  them.  He 
walked  beside  his  brother  with  an  uneasy  mind,  half 
conquered  and  not  knowing  what  to  do. 

It  was  then  that  the  two  brothers,  on  entering  the  Grande 
Rue,  perceived  a  crowd  of  workmen  on  the  Place  aux 
CEufs,  who  were  hastily  throwing-up  barricades. 

Marius  stopped  in  despair.  He  reflected  that  Fine  and 
Joseph  would  find  themselves  in  the  centre  of  the  riot 
and  he  said  to  himself,  that  Philippe  would  now  certainly 
fight.  What  worried  him  more  than  anything  else,  was 
that  he  accused  himself  of  being  the  author  of  all  this 
misfortune.  Was  it  not  he  who  had  advised  his  wife  to 
take  refuge  there  ?  Was  it  not  he  who  had  just  led  his 
brother  into  the  middle  of  the  riot? 

Philippe  had  also  stopped,  and  called  his  brother's 
attention  to  the  scene  before  them. 

"Look,"  he  exclaimed,  "chance  has  spared  me  from 
the  shame  of  acting  as  a  coward,  by  leading  me  to  those 
whom  I  had  sworn  to  defend  and  whom  I  was,  perhaps, 
about  to  abandon.  I  will  fight  for  liberty,  and  watch  over 
my  son." 

He  climbed  over  the  first  obstructions  that  had  been 
thrown  across  the  street,  and  found  himself  in  the  midst 
of  workmen  who  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand.  Marius 


330  THE    MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

followed,  and  ran  rapidly  upstairs  to  the  room  where  Fine 
and  Joseph  were. 

Matheus  had  completely  succeeded.  He  had  attained 
his  end,  step  by  step,  assisted  by  circumstances,  and 
advancing  slowly  and  surely  towards  his  object.  It  was 
he  who  had  in  a  measure  produced  the  events,  urging  on 
the  people  to  insurrection,  and  bringing  them  to  fight  at 
the  very  spot  where  he  desired  the  riot  to  break  out. 

After  having  discharged  his  musket  at  the  General,  he 
ascended  in  double  quick  time  towards  the  Cours,  leading 
parties  of  workmen  with  him,  whilst  the  terrified  crowd 
were  trampling  each  other  under  foot.  As  he  ran,  he 
uttered  this  rallying  cry : 

"To  the  Place  aux  CEufs!  To  the  Place  aux  CEufs !" 

So  soon  as  he  had  succeeded  in  getting  about  a  dozen 
rioters  to  follow  him,  he  shouted  louder  than  ever,  and 
rapidly  had  a  crowd  at  his  heels.  This  flood  of  armed 
men,  passing  through  the  gathering,  indicated  a  direction 
to  the  insurrectionary  movement  which  until  then  had  been 
hesitating.  The  workmen,  not  knowing  where  to  entrench 
themselves,  would  perhaps  have  dispersed ;  but  seeing  some 
of  their  comrades  running  towards  a  place  they  indicated, 
they  wished  to  follow  them,  and  all  who  were  spurred  on 
to  the  struggle  by  thoughts  of  vengeance,  flew  into  the 
Grande  Rue.  The  Place  aux  CEufs  was  soon  full. 

Matheus  on  reaching  the  square,  pointed  out  the  beau- 
tiful spot  he  had  chosen  to  the  workmen  about  him. 

"Look,"  he  said  to  them.  "The  place  seems  to  have 
been  made  for  fighting." 

That  remark  ran  through  the  crowd.  The  revolt  was 
destined  to  break  out  in  the  centre  of  the  old  town,  amidst 
those  narrow  streets  that  could  be  easily  barricaded.  Every 
one  felt  that  the  insurrection  was  at  home  there,  and  they 
thought  only  of  the  struggle.  A  breath  of  irritation  sped 
through  this  fiery-headed  mob. 

The  workmen,  however,  did  not  dare  act.  The  post  of 
National  Guards  which  Matheus  had  noticed  in  the  morning 
was  still  in  a  corner  of  the  square. 

"Stop,"  said  Matheus  to  the  most  enthusiastic,  "I'll 
undertake  to  disperse  them.  They  are  friends." 


BARRICADES   AT   THE   PLACE   AUX   CEUFS.          331 

He  went  up  to  the  lieutenant  with  whom  he  had 
previously  exchanged  a  few  words,  and  asked  him  if  his 
men  were  for  the  people.  The  lieutenant  answered  that 
they  were  there  to  preserve  order. 

"So  are  we,"  Matheus  answered,  shamelessly. 

Then  he  approached  him,  and  added  in  a  lower  tone : 

"  Listen,  I  have  a  bit  of  advice  to  give  you.  You  go 
off  as  quickly  as  you  can.  If  you  refuse,  we  shall  be 
obliged  to  disarm  you,  perhaps  kill  you,  and  brothers,  you 
know,  don't  kill  each  other.  Trust  in  me,  don't  remain 
a  minute  longer." 

The  lieutenant  glanced  round  him.  He  felt  only  too 
glad  to  go  away,  but  he  was  afraid  of  appearing  a  coward. 
The  position  was  critical.  The  rioters  slowly  surrounded 
the  National  Guard  and  gazed  at  their  muskets  with  eyes 
burning  with  desire.  Other  men  were  working  at  the 
barricade,  and  the  lieutenant  could  not  quietly  look  on 
without  making  an  effort  to  stop  them.  He  preferred  to 
withdraw ;  and  the  National  Guards  marched  off  amidst 
profound  silence. 

From  that  moment  the  square  was  in  possession  of  the 
rioters,  who  began  fortifying  themselves  there  as  well  as 
they  could.  Their  misfortune  was  that  they  had  not  the 
necessary  materials  for  throwing  up  a  lofty  and  solid 
barricade.  They  had  to  be  satisfied  with  the  benches  and 
packing  cases  of  the  dealers  in  herbs  established  there. 
These  they  first  of  all  placed  across  the  street,  and  they 
then  searched  the  adjoining  houses  for  barrels,  planks  and 
any  other  kind  of  suitable  material. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Matheus  was  resting  on  his  victory. 
Now  that  he  had  attained  his  end,  he  wished  to  make 
himself  as  small  as  possible,  and  disappeared  in  the  crowd, 
so  as  not  to  compromise  himself  further.  He  had  washed 
his  face  at  a  neighbouring  fountain,  and  had  left  his 
musket  standing  against  a  wall.  He  lolled  about  among 
the  crowd,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  like  a  good 
bourgeois  ;  he  presented  such  a  tranquil  appearance,  that 
the  workmen  who  had  seen  him  performing  the  comedy 
of  anger,  did  not  recognise  him.  He  ended  by  ascending 
the  steps  of  a  house  from  which  he  attentively  followed 


332  THE   MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

the  scene  that  was  passing  on  the  square,  and  searched 
with  his  eyes  for  Philippe  and  Marius. 

"You  will  fall  into  the  trap,  my  little  beauties,"  he 
thought,  with  a  calm  smile.  "  My  snares  are  well  set. 
Ah!  you  wanted  to  place  the  child  in  safety.  Eh! 
simpletons  that  you  are,  you  have  thrown  him  into  my 
arms !  You  will  rush  to  protect  the  little  darling,  and  be 
caught  with  him !  " 

He  kept  on  looking,  without  showing  the  least  impatience. 
He  knew  those  whom  he  was  awaiting  could  not  fail  to 
come.  When  the  two  brothers  emerged  from  the  Grande 
Rue,  he  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  murmured : 

"  I  was  sure  of  it." 

Then,  he  never  lost  sight  of  them.  He  followed  them 
in  the  crowd,  and  saw  Marius  run  up  to  find  Fine,  whilst 
Philippe  mixed  with  the  rioters. 

"  Come,  that's  perfect,"  he  murmured  again.  "  I  shall, 
perhaps,  be  obliged  to  kill  the  little  young  man.  As  to  the 
great  booby,  his  business  is  settled,  if  the  National  Guards 
don't  send  him  to  rot  in  the  ground,  we'll  see  that  the 
assizes  send  him  to  rot  in  prison." 

He  descended  and  went  and  turned  round  Philippe 
out  of  curiosity.  The  hour  for  him  to  act  had  not 
arrived.  He  thought  himself  at  a  play,  his  instincts 
were  gently  tickled  at  the  hope  of  being  present  at  a 
massacre.  While  waiting  to  accomplish  the  abduction  he 
had  undertaken,  he  resolved  to  amuse  himself  by  seeing 
people  kill  each  other. 

The  rioters  in  the  meanwhile,  had  returned  to  the  bar- 
ricades. Little  by  little,  they  had  piled  up  a  fairly  large 
quantity  of  material  on  the  square,  comprising  a  pell  mell 
of  all  sorts  of  objects  which  they  distributed  as  well  as 
possible  among  the  six  barricades  in  course  of  erection. 
They  formed  a  chain,  passing  planks,  paving  stones, 
everything  they  came  across,  from  hand  to  hand,  each 
ran  about  on  his  own  account,  and  returning,  threw  what 
he  had  found  on  the  heap.  It  was  a  feverish  coming  and 
going,  a  sort  of  immense  workshop  of  revolt,  where  every 
labourer  hurried  along  zealously  yet  gloomily  at  the  task, 
with  a  threat  on  his  lips  and  vengeance  in  his  heart. 


BARRICADES   AT   THE   PLACE   AUX   CEUFS.          333 

Whilst  the  majority  brought  materials,  others,  no  doubt 
wheel-wrights  and  carpenters,  had  undertaken  to  strengthen 
the  barricades.  Having  neither  nails  nor  hammers,  they 
confined  themselves  to  dovetailing  the  objects  one  with 
the  other. 

The  two  principle  barricades  were  thrown  up  at  the 
entrance  to  the  Grande  Rue,  on  the  side  of  the  Cours, 
and  at  the  entrance  to  the  Rue  Requis  Novis.  These, 
notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  the  rioters,  were  nothing, 
in  reality,  but  a  mass  of  objects  offering  but  little 
resistance  and  forming  in  no  way  a  serious  obstruction. 
Four  barricades  of  still  less  importance,  were  raised  across 
the  Rues  de  la  Vieille  Cuiraterie,  Lune-Blanche,  Vieille- 
Monnaie  and  Lune-d'Or.  One  street  only  remained 
open,  the  Rue  des  Marquises,  which  was  necessary  to  the 
rioters  for  communication  with  the  Rue  Belzunce,  the 
Place  des  Precheurs,  and  all  the  narrow  crooked  lanes  of 
the  old  quarter,  where  they  intended  to  fly  and  lose 
themselves  in  case  of  defeat.  The  Place  aux  (Eufs,  thus 
fortified,  would  have  been  an  impregnable  stronghold 
if  the  barricades  had  been  stronger. 

As  soon  as  Philippe  found  himself  amidst  the  Republi- 
cans, he  had  put  his  hand  to  work  without  hesitation. 
He  had  laboured  like  the  others,  carrying  all  that  he 
could  find  to  the  scene  of  action.  He  forgot  Marius' 
sober  words  and  thought  no  more  of  his  child,  all  his 
passion  was  bursting  within  him,  and  urging  him  forward. 

As  he  was  dragging  a  barrel  along,  he  all  at  once  heard 
an  ironical  voice  say : 

"Shall  I  help  you,  my  friend?" 

He  raised  his  head  and  recognised  M.  de  Girousse, 
who,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  was  observing  him 
with  a  delightful  air  of  curiosity. 

M.  de  Girousse  had  reached  Marseilles  on  the  previous 
evening.  Feeling  there  was  something  serious  in  the  air, 
he  had  hastened  there  so  as  not  to  lose  the  opportunity 
of  dispelling  the  dreadful  weariness  under  which  he 
laboured.  He  had  been  awaiting  a  drama  ever  since  the 
Republic  had  been  proclaimed.  He  absolutely  forgot  that 
he  belonged  to  the  nobility  and  watched  the  outburst 


334  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

of  the  people's  anger  as  a  disinterested  observer.  Searching 
at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  he  found  he  had  more  sym- 
pathy for  the  Democratic  cause  than  for  that  of  the 
Legitimists  to  which  he  was  fatally  attached  by  name. 
At  Aix  nobody  made  any  ceremony  about  saying,  that 
M.  de  Girousse  was  a  regular  "  original "  who  found 
pleasure  in  shaking  hands  with  workmen,  and  the  nobility 
would,  perhaps,  have  closed  their  mansions  to  him  had 
he  not  borne  one  of  the  oldest  names  of  Provence. 

He  had  been  running  about  the  streets  of  Marseilles 
since  the  morning,  watching  the  progress  of  the  riot, 
occupying  the  most  advantageous  positions  as  a  spectator, 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  scrimmage,  so  as  not  to  lose 
the  least  detail.  One  thing,  only,  had  disgusted  him,  the 
shot  fired  at  the  General.  Otherwise,  he  found  that  the 
people  generously  risked  their  lives,  that  their  anger  was 
superb  and  their  violence  magnificent. 

As  soon  as  he  had  heard  that  the  rioters  were  making 
barricades  at  the  Place  aux  QEufs,  he  hastened  there.  He 
wanted  to  be  present  at  the  catastrophe.  He  penetrated 
within  the  barricades,  mixed  with  the  fighting  men  and 
firmly  intended  not  to  move  until  all  was  over. 

Philippe  stared  at  him  in  amazement.  The  Count 
stood  there  before  him,  attired  in  a  black  frock  coat,  with 
a  soft  felt  hat  on  his  head  and  smiling  in  a  bantering 
manner.  Under  his  arm,  he  carried  a  huge  sabre,  all 
rusty  and  covered  with  dust. 

"What!  you  here!"  exclaimed  Philippe.  "  Are  you  one 
of  us  ?  " 

M.  de  Girousse  glanced  at  his  weapon. 

"  Look,  isn't  it  a  fine  sabre?"  he  said  without  answering. 
"  They  have  just  entrusted  me  with  it  for  the  defence  of 
Liberty." 

And  then  he  related  in  a  jeering  way,  how  he  had  just 
been  enrolled  among  the  rioters.  The  latter,  in  need  of 
arms,  sought  to  procure  them  by  all  possible  means.  A 
locksmith  had  made  the  remark  in  the  midst  of  one  of 
the  groups  that  the  dealers  in  second-hand  goods  in  the 
Rue  Belzunce  and  the  Rue  Sainte  Barbe  must  have  some 
old  arms  in  their  shops.  A  band  had  at  once  set  out  to 


BARRICADES   AT   THE   PLACE   AUX   CEUFS.         335 

secure  them.  M.  de  Girousse,  urged  on  by  curiosity,  had 
followed  the  band  and  gone  with  them  into  the  shops. 
It  was  in  one  of  these  that  a  workman  had  handed  him 
the  huge  sabre  which  he  carried  under  his  arm. 

"He  gave  it  me,"  he  added,  "and  made  me  swear 
to  plunge  it  into  the  enemies  of  our  country.  I  don't  think 
I  shall  abide  by  my  oath.  But  as  I  find  the  sabre  looks 
very  well  under  my  arm,  I'll  keep  it.  Do  you  think  any 
one  of  my  ancestors,  any  one  of  those  doughty  warriors 
of  the  past,  cut  a  better  figure  than  I  do  at  this  moment  ?  " 

Philippe  could  not  keep  from  laughing. 

"  I  asked  you  a  stupid  question  a  little  time  ago,"  he 
said  to  the  Count,  with  some  bitterness.  "  I  asked  you 
if  you  were  one  of  us.  I  forgot  that  you  could  only  be 
here  out  of  curiosity.  You  have  come  to  see  if  the  people 
know  how  to  die.  Well!  I  think  you'll  be  satisfied 
with  them." 

The  Republican  had  drawn  himself  up,  and  pointed  out 
to  the  nobleman  the  burning,  active  crowd  of  workmen. 

"  Look  at  them,"  he  resumed.  "  There  is  the  flock 
your  fathers  sheared,  and  branded  with  a  red-hot  iron. 
For  the  third  time  in  sixty  years  the  flock  is  getting  angry. 
I  predict  to  you,  that  it  will  end  by  eating  up  the 
shepherds.  Instead  of  urging  it  on  to  revolt,  it  would 
have  been  better  to  have  given  it  liberty,  and  bread, 
which  it  requires  to  live.  All  the  energies  it  is  expending 
at  this  hour,  in  raising  barricades,  would  then  have  been 
devoted  to  useful  labour." 

M.  de  Girousse  no  longer  jeered.  He  had  become 
grave.  Philippe  continued  with  violence  : 

"Your  place  is  not  here.  You  have  come  amidst  our 
barricades  as  the  patricians  of  ancient  Rome  went  to  the 
arena  to  see  slaves  die.  Ah !  notwithstanding  your  good- 
ness, cruel  blood  runs  in  your  veins.  You  are  pestered 
with  the  curiosity  of  the  wearied  master;  I  see  it,  and 
our  insurrection,  this  insurrection  which  will  cause  us 
tears,  is  merely  a  show  for  you.  Believe  me,  you  will 
do  better  to  go  away.  We  are  not  actors,  we  have  no 
need  of  the  pit." 

The  old  Count  had  turned  pale.     He  remained  for  an 


336  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

instant  motionless ;  then,  as  Philippe  stooped  down  to  take 
up  his  barrel,  he  said  to  him  in  a  peaceful  tone." 

"  My  friend,  will  you  allow  me  to  help  you  ? " 

He  grasped  the  barrel  at  one  end,  and  Republican 
and  Legitimist  carried  it  together  to  the  barricade  and 
threw  it  down  there. 

"The  deuce!"  said  M.  de  Girousse,  "it  wasn't  heavy, 
but  my  sabre  inconvenienced  me  considerably." 

He  rubbed  his  hands  to  get  rid  of  the  dust,  and  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Marius.  After  the  first  words 
of  surprise,  he  resumed,  smiling: 

"Your  brother  has  just  been  advising  me  to  go  away. 
He  is  right,  I  am  only  an  inquisitive  old  fellow.  I  wish 
you  would  hide  me  somewhere." 

Marius  took  him  into  the  house  where  Fine  and  Joseph 
were,  and  the  Count  made  himself  comfortable  on  the 
third  floor  landing,  at  a  window  facing  the  square.  What 
Philippe  had  said  to  him  had  made  him  profoundly  sad. 

Marius  had  merely  come  down  to  beg  his  brother  to  go 
and  comfort  Fine  and  the  child,  who  were  half  dead  with 
fright.  He  returned,  after  Philippe  had  promised  to  rejoin 
him.  The  latter  wished  particularly  to  take  a  look  round 
the  square.  The  six  barricades  were  completed;  at  least, 
the  rioters,  being  unable  to  find  any  more  material,  had 
renounced  building  them  any  higher.  A  heavy  silence 
began  to  reign  among  the  crowd,  and  the  workmen  seated 
themselves  on  the  ground,  resting  while  awaiting  events. 
It  was  easy  to  see,  from  the  lowered  tone  of  voice,  that 
the  moment  of  the  struggle  was  approaching. 

What  annoyed  Philippe,  was  that  there  were  so  few 
efficient  arms  in  the  hands  of  the  combatants.  Fifty  of 
them  at  the  most  had  muskets.  Some  of  the  others 
carried  sticks,  billiard  cues  evidently  stolen  in  the  cafes; 
a  great  number  of  those  who  were  without  muskets 
were  provided  with  curious  kinds  of  weapons  that  had 
come  from  the  shops  of  the  second-hand  dealers.  Some 
had  spits,  old  lances  and  sabres ;  others  simply  iron  bars. 
Around  the  fountain  which  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 
square,  were  a  dozen  workmen  or  so,  sharpening  their 
rusty  blades  on  the  cold  stones  of  the  basin.  Cartridges 


BARRICADES   AT   THE   PLACE   AUX    CEUFS.          337 

also  were  few  in  number.  There  were  at  the  most  a 
hundred  or  two  taken  from  the  ammunition  pouches  of 
the  National  Guards  who  had  been  disarmed. 

Philippe  understood  that  the  barricades  could  notresistlong, 
but  he  was  determined  not  to  discourage  anyone  by  show- 
ing his  anxiety.  He  confined  himself  to  advising  them 
to  occupy  the  houses  adjoining  the  barricades,  in  the  hope 
that  the  assailants  would  retire  if  a  shower  of  projectiles 
were  cast  on  them  from  the  roofs  and  windows. 

Several  houses  had  already  been  invaded.  The  rioters 
hammered  at  the  doors  of  the  lodgings  they  wished  to 
occupy,  threatening  to  break  them  in  if  they  were  not 
opened.  Then,  they  insisted  on  having  the  keys  of  the 
doors  leading  to  the  flat  roofs,  and  made  every  win- 
dow a  loophole,  and  every  roof  a  stronghold.  They 
laboured  solely,  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  carrying  stones 
up  into  the  houses.  Once  above,  they  tore  away  and 
broke  up  the  tiles,  and  incumbered  the  tops  of  the  dwell- 
ings with  rubbish,  which  they  intended  throwing  on  the 
soldiers'  heads. 

When  Philippe  was  satisfied  that  all  the  arrangements 
had  been  completed,  he  decided  to  rejoin  his  brother. 
He  had  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  men  who  were 
to  occupy  the  house  where  Marius  had  hidden  Fine  and 
Joseph.  This  house  was  at  the  corner  of  the  Grande  Rue, 
and  the  Place  aux  Guifs,  on  the  right,  coming  from  the 
Cours.  Philippe  foresaw  that  the  barricade  in  the  Grande 
Rue  would  be  the  most  vigorously  attacked,  and  he  was 
not  without  uneasiness  as  to  the  danger  that  would  be 
incurred  by  the  persons  who  had  sought  refuge  there,  and 
who  would  be  in  the  midst  of  the  fighting. 

He  only  allowed  the  most  devoted  men  to  enter  the 
building,  and  made  them  vow  to  defend  the  door  to  their 
last  breath.  After  having  placed  them  on  the  roof  and 
at  the  windows,  he  returned  to  the  landing  on  the  third 
story,  where  he  found  M.  dc  Girousse  who  pointed  out 
a  door  to  him  and  simply  said : 

"They're  expecting  you." 

Whilst  Philippe  had  been  settling  all  this,  Matheus  had 
ascended  the  steps  of  the  house  wlvVh  was  on  the  other 


338  THE  MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

side  of  the  square.  He  had  seen  the  Republican  at  the 
windows,  and  his  quiet,  rascally  smile  returned  like  a 
grimace  to  his  lips. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

WHAT   MATHEUS,    THE   FORESEER,    DID 
NOT   FORESEE. 

THE  interview  was  short  and  touching.  Philippe  took 
little  Joseph  for  a  moment  on  his  knees,  and  felt  quite 
affected. 

"I  entrust  him  to  you,"  he  said  to  Fine  and  Marius. 
"I  shall,  perhaps^  never  see  him  again,  but  I  know  he  will 
always  have  a  father  and  mother." 

Marius  remained  silent.  He  understood  that  his  brother 
imagined  he  was  performing  a  duty,  and  he  did  not  say 
one  word  to  retain  him.  Fine  had  great  tears  bulging 
out  of  her  eyes. 

Philippe  seemed  to  be  making  an  effort  to  tear  him- 
self away  from  the  room  which  appeared  full  of  mute 
despair.  He  wished  to  escape  the  cowardly  feeling  of 
tenderness  that  was  gaining  possession  of  him.  He  gave 
his  son  a  last  kiss,  and  placed  him  on  Fine's  knees. 

Then,  walking  feverishly,  as  if  to  stir  up  his  thoughts, 
he  moved  towards  the  window  facing  the  Grande  Rue, 
and  after  casting  a  look  outside,  turned  towards  the  young 
woman  and  said : 

"  You  mustn't  remain  on  that  chair.  Come  and  sit 
here,  away  from  the  window.  The  bullets  might  enter 
there." 

He  stopped,  and  could  not  stifle  a  cry  that  rose  to 
his  lips. 

"Ah!  War  is  a  terrible  thing!  I  have  wished  for  it 
with  all  my  strength,  and  behold,  it  places  those  I  love 
in  jeopardy." 

His  head  fell  on  his  hand  in  despair.  He  was  on  the 
point  of  bursting  into  nervous  sobbing,  when  moving 
towards  the  door,  he  continued  in  a  brutal  tone : 


WHAT   MATHEUS   DID   NOT   FORESEE.  339 

"Are  you  coming  Marius?" 

Then  on  the  threshold,  he  bid  a  last  adieu  to  Fine 
and  Joseph,  who  watched  him  depart.  At  that  moment 
he  and  his  brother  thought  no  more  of  M.  de  Cazalis; 
and  any  idea  of  a  surprise  was  far  from  their  minds.  They 
simply  feared  that  the  young  woman  and  child  might 
be  subjected  to  brutal  treatment  by  the  rioters  and  soldiers 
amidst  the  disturbance. 

On  the  landing,  they  found  M.  de  Girousse  who  ap- 
peared to  be  hiding  beside  the  window,  and  watching 
attentively. 

"  I  say,  do  you  know  that  villainous  creature  over  there?  " 
he  inquired  of  them. 

And  he  pointed  with  his  finger  to  Matheus,  who  was 
standing  on  the  other  side  of  the  square. 

"  I've  been  following  his  movements  for  the  last  half 
hour,"  continued  the  Count.  "  He  has  not  ceased  watching 
this  house.  Assuredly  he  must  be  actuated  by  some  evil 
design." 

The  two  brothers  looked  in  the  direction  he  indicated. 

"  Is  it  the  man  with  the  red  hair  ?  "  inquired  Marius. 

"Precisely,"  answered  the  Count.  "  I  detest  red-haired 
people.  But  then,  I  have  a  particularly  good  scent  for 
detecting  rascals.  That  one  has  evil-looking  eyes,  and  a 
quiet  smile  that  predicts  nothing  good." 

"But,"  said  Philippe,  "  I  know  the  man.  He's  a  violent 
democrat.  I  remember  having  heard  him  deliver  incendi- 
ary speeches  in  the  clubs.  I  never  thoroughly  examined 
him,  but  I  confess  I  always  had  a  kind  of  repugnance 
for  him.  Look,  he's  staring  this  way  again." 

The  young  man  was  seized  with  vague  mistrust.  He 
fancied  Matheus  might,  perhaps,  be  an  instigating  agent 
of  the  authorities,  one  of  those  traitors  who  glide  in 
among  the  democrats,  and  lead  them  on  to  extremities, 
so  as  to  hand  them  over  to  the  police  afterwards. 

Marius  had  other  fears  to  which  he  did  not  dare  give 
utterance. 

"  Come,  "  he  said  to  Philippe,  "we  must  find  out  why 
that  man  is  watching  the  house  in  that  way." 

They  went  down  and  mixed  with  the  crowd,  and  while 


340  THE   MYSTERIES  OF  MARSEILLES. 

feigning  not  to  pay  attention  to  Matheus,  took  care  not 
to  lose  sight  of  him.  They  walked  about  the  square 
in  this  way  for  ten  minutes,  without  relaxing  their  super- 
vision. Matheus,  in  the  meanwhile,  was  spoiling  all  his 
beautiful  calculations  by  being  over  confident.  He  had  so 
correctly  foreseen  each  event,  everything  had  succeeded 
so  well  with  him  up  to  then,  that  he  felt  sure  of  victory. 
He  thought  he  had  already  triumphed,  and  omitted  his 
customary  prudence,  imagining  that  in  the  scrimmage, 
everyone  had  lost  his  head,  and  nobody  was  paying  the 
least  attention  to  him. 

When  he  perceived  the  two  brothers,  he  ceased  exam- 
ining the  house,  and  assumed  a  happy-go-lucky  air.  He 
cast  down  his  head,  and  seemed  lost  in  deep  thought. 
Then  Marius  and  Philippe  saw  him  leave  the  steps,  and 
wander  among  the  crowd,  looking  very  perplexed.  In 
truth,  he  was  thinking  if  he  ought  not  to  go  and  steal 
the  child  then,  before  the  outbreak,  so  as  to  avoid  com- 
promising himself,  by  remaining  any  longer  amidst  the 
barricades.  It  was  only  a  question  of  getting  rid  of 
Fine  and  that  did  not  trouble  him  much;  he  would 
use  a  gag,  he  thought,  and  if  absolutely  necessary,  a 
knife.  What  really  worried  him,  and  gave  him  an  air 
of  such  profound  thought,  was  that  horrid  carroty  wig, 
which  up  to  then  had  served  him  as  a  flag,  but  which 
he  now  wished  to  get  rid  of  at  any  price. 

He  said  to  himself  rightly,  that  it  nailed  him  to  his 
post,  deprived  him  of  his  liberty  of  action:  he  could 
never  carry  a  child  off  in  his  arms,  so  long  as  he  remained 
"  the  man  with  the  carroty  hair"  as  they  called  him,  the 
impetuous  Tribune  who  had  spoken  on  one  occasion  of 
reducing  Marseilles  to  ashes. 

Matheus  walked  about  for  a  long  time,  without  being 
able  to  make  up  his  mind  as  to  what  he  would  do.  He 
understood  all  the  gravity  of  a  change  of  physiognomy. 
Now,  when  Philippe  and  Marius  noticed  the  sly  glances 
he  was  casting  around  him,  they  felt  certain  M.  de  Girousse 
'was  not  wrong.  All  at  once  he  made  a  movement  like 
a  man  taking  a  resolution,  and  advancing  towards  the 
door  of  one  of  the  houses  on  the  square,  entered  it  after 


WHAT   MATHEUS   DID   NOT   FORESEE.  341 

looking  round  to  see  that  no  one  was  spying  him. 
A  few  minutes  later,  the  two  brothers,  who  had  kept  their 
eyes  fixed  on  the  door  of  the  house,  saw  a  person  make  his 
appearance  there  who  was  slightly  bald  and  wore  the  same 
attire  as  the  man  with  the  carroty  wig.  Philippe  repressed 
a  cry  of  rage.  He  had  recognised  Matheus  at  a  glance. 

"  Ah !  the  wretch !  "  he  muttered  in  a  choking  voice  to 
his  brother,  "  he's  the  fedus  Achates  of  Cazalis,  the  man 
who  tried  to  steal  Joseph  at  Ayasse's." 

"  I  suspect  some  foul  play,"  murmured  Marius,  who  had 
turned  pale. 

"  I  see  it  all  now!  it  was  that  cursed  red  hair  that  led 
me  astray;  I  felt  I  knew  the  man,  but  I  only  saw  him 
at  night,  and  couldn't  remember  who  he  was." 

Marius  interrupted  his  brother. 

"  Every  minute  is  precious,"  he  said.  "  Cazalis  must  be 
there  in  the  dark.  He  has  set  one  of  his  creatures  to 
dog  your  foot-steps  so  as  to  ruin  you,  and  at  the  climax, 
has  sent  this  wretch  here  to  get  possession  of  Joseph.  I 
don't  understand  how  it  has  all  been  done;  however,  we 
must  first  of  all  get  rid  of  this  man.  We'll  decide  on 
further  action  afterwards." 

Philippe,  dumbfounded  at  the  thought  of  all  the  misfor- 
tunes he  had  brought  about,  remained  silent. 

"You  understand,"  continued  Marius,  "  we  cannot  have 
him  arrested  by  accusing  him  of  an  abduction  he  has  not 
yet  committed.  And  besides,  we  would  find  nobody  here 
to  seize  him  by  the  collar." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  Republican,  whose  eyes 
suddenly  sparkled.  "  I  have  an  idea.  Wait  a  minute." 

Philippe  ran  towards  a  party  of  workmen,  who  were 
entirely  devoted  to  him,  spoke  to  them  in  an  undertone 
for  a  few  moments,  and  returning  to  Marius  said : 

"  Look,  our  man  is  already  caught  in  the  trap." 

The  workmen  had  dispersed;  then,  one  by  one,  they 
had  manoeuvred  so  as  to  surround  Matheus,  while  the 
latter,  suspecting  nothing,  was  strolling  about  with  the  air 
of  a  placid  bourgeois. 

"  You  go  home,"  said  one  of  the  workmen  to  him  in 
a  brutal  tone. 


342  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

"Wait,"  observed  another,  "this  citizen  is  not  unknown 
to  me." 

"Eh!"  exclaimed  a  third,  "what  have  you  done  with 
your  carroty  wig  ?  " 

"  He's  a  false  brother !  he's  a  false  brother ! "  shouted 
all  the  party. 

This  cry  ran  all  over  the  square.  A  gathering  was 
formed  and  in  the  midst  of  it  Matheus  was  violently 
hustled.  A  rioter  searched  him,  and  the  red  wig  which  was 
found  in  one  of  his  pockets,  was  passed  from  hand  to 
hand  as  a  proof  of  guilt.  They  spoke  of  nothing  less 
than  hanging  the  wretch,  for  all  who  remembered  the 
part  he  had  played,  shouted  out  that  he  was  an  instigating 
agent,  a  creature  of  the  police,  and  that  they  must  make 
an  example  of  him,  by  stringing  him  up  to  the  nearest 
lantern. 

Matheus  trembled  with  fright.  There  was  no  reasoning 
within  him  at  that  moment,  and  he  was  not  a  bit  surprised 
when  he  saw  Philippe,  of  all  people  in  the  world,  advance 
to  his  assistance. 

"Come,  my  friends,"  said  the  latter  to  the  angry 
workmen,  "  don't  dirty  your  hands  by  killing  the  man.  It 
will  suffice  to  keep  him  within  sight.  He  might  be  useful 
to  us  later  on.  Only,  if  he  attempts  to  run  away,  send  a 
bullet  into  his  back." 

By  the  young  man's  order  two  workmen  caught  hold 
of  the  wretch,  and  shut  him  up  in  a  little  shop,  one  of 
them  standing  on  guard  at  the  door  with  a  loaded  musket. 

Matheus'  reflections  were  rather  sad.  He  cursed  himself 
a  thousand  times,  for  having  had  the  strange  idea  of 
taking  off  his  wig,  but  he  did  not  for  a  moment  suspect 
the  part  the  Cayols  had  played  in  his  arrest.  Philippe 
having  feigned  not  to  recognise  him,  he  imagined  his 
misadventure  had  occurred  solely  from  the  rioters  taking 
him  for  a  police  spy,  an  accusation  he  had  been  unable  to 
refute.  At  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  he  even  laughed  at 
his  adversaries  for  having  helped  him.  However,  he  did 
not  despair  beyond  measure,  for  he  had  always  looked 
upon  the  workmen  as  asses,  and  he  said  to  himself  that 
he  would  assuredly  find  a  means  of  escaping  when  the 


WHAT   MATHEUS   DID   NOT   FORESEE.  343 

barricades  were  attacked.  It  was  merely  an  annoyance. 
He  must  wait. 

Philippe  had  withdrawn  with  Marius  into  a  corner,  and 
was  saying  to  him  in  an  animated  undertone : 

"  I  preferred  not  to  let  him  be  hanged,  for  if  we  conquer, 
this  man  will  be  a  terrible  arm  in  our  hands  against  Cazalis." 

"  And  if  we  are  beaten  ?  "  inquired  Marius. 

"If  we  are  beaten,"  Philippe  answered,  sullenly,  "I 
entrust  my  child  to  you;  you  will  protect  him.  Do  not 
overwhelm  me  with  reproaches.  I  must  go  straight  ahead, 
without  looking  backward." 

The  conversation  between  the  two  brothers  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  murmur  that  arose  in  the  middle  of  the  square. 
It  was  about  two  o'clock.  More  than  an  hour  had  elapsed 
since  the  barricades  had  been  completed,  and  the  rioters 
were  waiting.  They  had  taken  advantage  of  this  moment 
of  respite  to  organize  a  plan  of  defence  and  make  their 
final  arrangements.  Since  the  arrest  of  Matheus  a  silence 
of  death  reigned  all  around.  Each  workman,  rivetted  to 
his  post,  was  gazing  fixedly  ahead,  with  his  loaded 
musket  beside  him,  and  all  his  thoughts  bent  on  vengeance. 

Suddenly,  those  who  were  guarding  the  barricade  in  the 
Grande  Rue,  perceived  two  persons  advance  and  boldly 
enter  the  stronghold.  On  hearing  the  murmur,  that  had 
greeted  them,  Philippe  approached  and  recognised  M. 
Martelly  and  Abbe  Chastanier.  The  ship-owner  hastened 
forward  to  meet  him. 

"For  pity's  sake,"  he  said  to  him,  "if  you  have  any 
power  over  these  men,  dissuade  them  from  this  fratricidal 
struggle." 

"My  child,"  murmured  the  priest  on  his  side,  "I  have 
come  to  you,  to  beseech  you  with  joined  hands,  to  avoid 
the  effusion  of  blood." 

Philippe  shook  his  head  without  answering.  He  was 
annoyed  at  their  arrival.  He  felt  more  guilty  and  upset 
in  their  presence.  The  ship-owner  continued : 

"  You  see,  I  come,  as  I  promised  you  I  would,  to 
place  myself  between  the  people's  fire  and  that  of  the 
soldiers.  I  bitterlv  regret  at  this  moment,  that  I  did  not 
devote  a  few  days  to  winning  popularity  with  the  work- 


344  THE   MYSTERIES   OF    MARSEILLES. 

men,  so  as  to  make  them  listen  to  me  and  follow  my  advice." 

"  I  can  do  nothing,"  Philippe  ended  by  saying.  "  These 
men  are  exasperated,  they  listen  to  me  because  I  think 
as  they  do,  that  the  people  have  to  take  vengeance ;  but, 
if  I  were  to  speak  to  them  of  pardon  and  forgiveness, 
they  would  turn  their  backs  on  me.  Try  it  yourself." 

The  workmen  had,  little  by  little,  drawn  near,  and  M. 
Martelly  went  up  to  them. 

"  My  friends,"  he  said,  "  I  am  directed  to  announce 
that  justice  shall  be  done  you.  I  have  just  seen  the 
Commissary  of  the  Government." 

These  words  were  listened  to  amidst  silence  and  sul- 
len anger.  After  a  moment,  the  entire  crowd  answered  in 
one  single  cry: 

"  It  is  too  late !  " 

Abbe  Chastanier  then  addressed  each  workman.  But 
they  turned  away,  one  by  one,  in  ferocious  ill-humour, 
without  listening.  When  he  told  them  that  the  Almighty 
forbade  the  shedding  of  blood,  they  answered  him : 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  that  this  morning  to  the  National 
Guard  ?  " 

M.  Martelly,  on  his  side,  was  no  more  fortunate. 
They  knew  him  as  a  man  of  independent  mind,  but  they 
also  knew  he  was  rich,  and  they,  perhaps,  accused  him 
in  their  hearts  of  giving  way  to  fright. 

The  priest  and  ship-owner  returned  to  Philippe  in  despair. 
The  latter  would  have  been  glad  to  see  them  succeed, 
but  he  did  not  dare  assist  them  openly.  Thinking  of  his 
faults,  of  which  he  now  saw  the  consequences,  of  the 
danger  which  threatened  his  own  near  relatives,  he  felt 
alarmed  himself. 

"I  warned  you,"  he  said,  "that  any  attempt  at  pacifi- 
cation would  be  useless.  The  people  want  to  fight,  and 
will  fight.  Let  us  do  our  duty." 

He  stopped  to  listen.  A  muffled  sound,  a  distant 
clinking  of  metal, 'came  from  the  Grande  Rue. 

"Here  are  the  soldiers  and  National  Guard,"  he 
continued  in  a  grave  tone  of  voice. 

And  he  rapidly  withdrew,  after  having  pressed  the  hand 
of  Marius,  who  hastened  upstairs  to  rejoin  Fine.  M. 


THE   ATTACK.  345 

Martelly  and  Abbe  Chastanier  advanced  towards  the  bar- 
ricade in  the  Grand  Rue,  behind  which  Philippe  had 
taken  up  a  position. 

Once  more  there  was  silence,  deadly  silence,  and  amidst 
it  was  heard  the  regular,  heavy  tramp  of  the  military. 
The  rioters,  bending  down  and  sheltering  themselves, 
waited. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
THE   ATTACK. 

M.  DE  CAZALIS  thanks  to  his  National  Guard  uniform, 
had  been  able  to  follow  all  the  different  phases  of  the 
riot.  So  far  back  as  the  morning,  when  Matheus  left  him 
opposite  the  Prefecture,  he  had  slipped  into  the  ranks  of 
the  first  company  he  had  met,  which  happened  to  be 
that  of  Sauvaire,  and  the  ex-deputy  was  thus  able  to  be 
present  at  the  brush  with  the  people  in  the  Rue  de 
la  Palud. 

He  had  but  a  vague  idea  of  the  plans  formed  by 
Matheus,  and  was  urged  by  curiosity  to  follow  all  his 
manoeuvres.  After  the  barricade  had  been  captured  he 
proceeded  with  Sauvaire's  company  to  the  Cannebiere, 
and  witnessed  all  the  unfortunate  events  that  had  occurred 
there.  When  he  saw  the  procession  led  by  the  spy,  go 
by  with  the  corpse,  he  understood  that  a  fight  was  inevitable, 
and  remembered  the  rendezvous  his  accomplice  had  given 
him.  But  when  a  panic  of  terror  had  dispersed  the 
multitude,  he  felt  much  perplexed.  Prudence  told  him 
not  to  abandon  his  new  companions-in-arms ;  so,  for  over 
two  hours,  he  remained  on  the  Place  dc  la  Revolution 
with  the  company,  which  was  awaiting  orders  to  march. 
What  made  him  particularly  uneasy,  was  not  having  a  better 
idea  of  Matheus1  plans,  for  the  latter  had  merely  told  him 
to  join  him  at  the  spot  where  barricades  would  be  thrown  up. 
He  was  suddenly  relieved  of  his  perplexity  by  an  order, 
brought  by  a  man  on  horseback,  which  Captain  Sauvaire 
communicated  to  the  National  Guard  in  these  terms: 


346  THE   MYSTERIES    OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  My  boys,  the  country  has  need  of  us.  Forward,  march !" 

Never  had  the  ex-stevedore  made  such  an  eloquent 
speech.  He  felt  so  enthusiastic  at  himself,  that  he  began 
to  ascend  the  Cannebiere  at  the  head  of  his  men,  with 
the  air  of  a  conqueror,  hardly  giving  a  thought  to  the  danger 
he  was  about  to  incur. 

M.  de  Cazalis  felt  very  much  surprised  when  the  Company 
turned  to  the  left,  instead  of  going  towards  the  Rue  de 
Rome.  His  idea  was  that  Matheus  had  been  making 
efforts  to  bring  about  the  struggle  near  the  Cours  Bonaparte, 
and  he  could  not  understand  how  his  accomplice  would 
be  able  to  steal  Joseph,  if  the  fighting  took  place  in  the 
old  town.  From  that  moment  he  gave  up  trying  to  understand, 
but  as  the  company  reached  the  Grande  Rue  he  caught 
sight  of  the  barricade  and  that  was  sufficient.  He  said 
to  himself,  he  had  kept  the  appointment,  and  he  awaited 
events. 

The  Cours  Belzunce  was  full  of  troops.  There  were 
two  platoons  of  infantry,  and  about  three  hundred  artil- 
lerymen. As  soon  as  Sauvaire's  company  arrived,  the 
major  who  had  received  orders  to  attack  the  barricade,  had 
a  short  interview  with  the  captain. 

"I  was  awaiting  you,"  he  said  to  Sauvaire.  "My 
orders  are  to  show  as  much  consideration  as  is  possible, 
and  it  occurred  to  me  that  as  the  sight  of  the  infantry 
would  be  likely  to  exasperate  the  workmen,  it  might  be 
best  for  the  National  Guard  to  march  on  ahead  and 
make  a  final  effort  at  conciliation.  Speak  to  the  rioters 
as  a  fellow-townsman." 

From  that  moment  Sauvaire  imagined  that  the  destiny 
of  France  was  in  his  hands.  He  formed  his  company 
into  column  and  advanced  resolutely  into  the  Grande 
Rue,  the  tramp  of  his  men  ringing  out  in  the  silence. 
The  major  set  his  troops  in  motion  behind  the  National 
Guard. 

When  the  captain  found  himself  at  fifty  paces  from 
the  barricade,  he  commanded  :  "  Halt !  "  and  approached 
it  alone.  On  hearing  his  word  of  command,  some 
fifteen  rioters  showed  themselves.  The  ex-master 
stevedore,  seeing  the  musket  barrels  flashing  at  his 


THE   ATTACK.  347 

breast,  gave  a  shudder  of  fright,  but  out  of  vanity, 
put  on  a  good  appearance  externally. 

"  Eh !  the  deuce ! "  he  said,  "  I'm  a  friend,  don't  fire. 
We're  all  Marseillais  boys;  we  can't  cut  each  other's 
throats  in  a  family  circle.  There  are  none  but  good 
fellows  here.  Is  it  not  so  ?  Come  now,  throw  down  your 
arms  and  let  each  go  his  own  way." 

There  was  but  one  cry  in  response  to  these  exhorta- 
tions. 

"It  is  too  late!" 

"It  is  never  too  late  to  act  like  reasonable  men,"  con- 
tinued Sauvaire.  "In  your  place,  I'd  return  to  duty.  They 
must  have  told  you  that  the  Commissary  of  the  Govern- 
ment had  admitted  the  justice  of  your  claims.  What  more 
do  you  want  ?" 

"  What  we  want  is  blood,  withdraw ! "  screamed  the 
rioters. 

Sauvaire,  while  speaking,  had  been  attentively  following 
the  workmen's  movements.  Suddenly,  he  fancied  he  heard  a 
strange  sound  and  was  about  to  retreat,  when  a  powerful 
voice  shouted  from  behind  the  barricade  : 

"Look  out,  stoop  down!" 

Sauvaire  let  himself  fall  heavily  to  the  ground,  and  the 
men  behind  him  bent  themselves. 

At  the  same  moment  a  discharge  from  the  barricades 
and  neighbouring  houses,  passed  over  the  heads  of  the 
attacking  party  with  a  terrible  roar,  but  thanks  to  the 
warning,  which  had  caused  the  soldiers  to  curve  their  necks, 
only  about  a  dozen  men  were  wounded.  The  attack  had 
been  so  sudden  and  unexpected,  that  the  National  Guards, 
seized  with  panic,  had  fled.  Sauvaire  threw  himself  to  the 
left,  against  the  houses,  and  hurriedly  rejoined  his  com- 
pany which  had  reformed  a  hundred  paces  further  on. 

During  this  time  an  incident  had  occurred,  behind  the 
barricade.  M.  Martelly  and  Abbe  Chastanier  had  remained 
among  the  workmen,  exhorting  them  to  avoid  the  effusion 
of  blood.  Whilst  Sauvaire  was  speaking,  the  ship-owner 
had  noticed  that  some  of  the  more  furious  ones  were 
preparing  to  fire,  and  it  was  he  who  had  shouted  to  the 
soldiers: 


348  THE   MYSTERIES    OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  Look  out,  stoop  down !  " 

When  the  rioters  perceived  what  little  effect  their  dis- 
charge had  produced,  they  surrounded  M.  Martelly  in  a 
rage.  Philippe,  who  had  come  down  from  the  barricade, 
saw  the  danger  his  former  employer  was  running,  and, 
to  save  him,  ordered  two  of  the  rioters  to  put  him  and 
the  priest  under  arrest  and  not  to  lose  sight  of  them.  Ulti- 
mately both  were  taken  to  the  little  shop  where  Matheus 
was  confined. 

The  troops,  however,  advanced  again.  The  major  had 
given  the  infantry  orders  to  take  the  barricade  by  assault, 
and  a  few  of  the  National  Guards,  exasperated  at  the 
volley  they  had  received,  had  mixed  with  the  soldiers. 
Among  these  was  M.  de  Cazalis.  Having  perceived  Phi- 
lippe at  the  top  of  the  barricade,  he  had  but  one  thought, 
to  hide  behind  something  or  in  some  doorway,  and  kill 
his  enemy. 

As  the  new  attacking  column  was  about  to  rush  upon 
the  barricade,  they  were  repulsed  by  a  second  discharge. 
This  volley  was  much  more  murderous  than  the  first. 
A  captain,  mortally  wounded,  was  carried  in  a  dying 
condition  into  a  neighbouring  house,  and  more  than  thirty 
men  were  incapacitated  from  taking  any  further  part  in 
the  fray.  The  major  then  understood  that  the  struggle 
was  unequal  and  that  he  would  never  capture  the  barricade 
by  storming  it  from  the  front,  as  the  rioters,  hidden 
behind  all  sorts  of  shelter,  were  able  to  take  deadly  aim, 
whilst  those  attacking  could  not  do  so.  From  that 
moment,  soldiers  and  National  Guards  dispersed  in  the 
Grande  Rue,  and  throwing  themselves  on  either  side  of 
it,  along  the  walls,  opened  a  skirmishing  fire.  Shot  then 
followed  shot,  irregularly,  here  and  there;  and  as  soon 
as  a  man  showed  himself,  he  was  certain  to  get  a  bullet 
whistling  at  his  ears. 

Sauvaire  had  sought  refuge  under  a  large  doorway. 
The  worthy  man  began  to  think  the  business  of  a  National 
Guard  no  joke.  His  vanity  had  first  of  all  been  tickled, 
by  the  importance  the  rank  of  captain  gave  him,  in  the 
grave  events  that  were  occurring ;  but,  when  he  saw  they 
were  fighting  in  earnest,  his  bourgeois  pity  got  the  better 


THE   ATTACK.  349 

of  him;  and  he  watched  the  men  falling  around  him,  with 
a  feeling  of  sorrow  and  horror.  He  felt  as  if  he  would 
like  to  put  a  stop  to  the  fighting;  first  of  all,  so  as  not 
to  run  the  risk  of  receiving  a  bullet,  and  then  so  as  to  be 
spared  the  disagreeable  sight  of  a  battle.  Personally  he 
would  not  have  killed  a  fly,  he  only  thought  of  securing 
his  own  safety  and  of  coming  to  the  assistance  of  friends 
who  might  be  mixed  up  in  the  disturbance. 

It  happened  by  chance  that  he  was  hiding  under  the 
same  doorway  as  M.  de  Cazalis.  Recognising  the  ex- 
deputy,  he  repressed  a  gesture  of  astonishment,  and  being 
aware  of  the  hatred  he  bore  the  Cayols,  he  rightly  attributed 
his  presence,  under  a  disguise,  to  thoughts  of  vengeance. 
He  had  noticed  Philippe  on  the  barricade,  and  he  now 
began  to  watch  M.  de  Cazalis,  who,  with  his  musket  on 
a  level  with  his  hip,  seemed  to  be  waiting.  The  Republican 
having  stood  up  to  reload  his  weapon,  the  Legitimist 
brought  his  gun  sharply  to  his  shoulder  and  fired,  but 
Sauvaire,  feigning  to  slip,  knocked  up  against  him,  and 
the  bullet  was  flattened  out  against  the  far-acle  of  a  house. 

M.  de  Cazalis  was  exasperated,  but  did  not  dare  show 
his  temper  to  the  captain,  under  whose  orders  he  had 
voluntarily  placed  himself.  He  slid  another  charge  into 
his  gun,  repressing  an  outburst  of  rage,  whilst  Sauvaire 
said  to  himself: 

"  Eh !  the  deuce !  the  Cayols  are  my  friends.  Little 
Marius  gave  me  many  a  good  laugh  in  the  old  days  with 
Clairon.  I  won't  let  them  be  killed  like  that.  We  must 
be  on  the  alert." 

And  from  that  moment,  he  forgot  he  was  a  captain 
and  only  thought  of  affording  little  Marius  pleasure,  by 
saving  Philippe. 

The  latter  had  no  idea  of  the  danger  he  had  just 
escaped.  Excited  by  the  struggle,  he  fought  as  one  in 
despair.  All  his  doubts  had  left  him,  he  imagined  he  was. 
defending  his  child.  He  fired  upon  the  troops,  because 
the  troops  were  firing  on  the  house  where  Fine  and  Joseph 
were.  That  was  his  great  anxiety.  At  every  instant,  he 
raised  his  eyes  towards  the  window  of  the  room,  and 
turned  pale  when  he  saw  a  bullet  shatter  one  of  the  panes 


350  THE    MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

of  glass  to  pieces.  M.  de  Girousse,  with  superb  contempt 
for  peril,  leant  out,  every  now  and  then,  from  an  adjoining 
window  to  get  a  better  view.  He  tranquillized  Philippe 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand  and  then  enjoyed,  as  an  amateur, 
the  sight  afforded  by  the  barricade. 

The  struggle  continued  thus  for  nearly  half  an  hour, 
soldiers  and  rioters  exchanging  bullets  at  distant  intervals. 
There  were  awful  silences  of  two  or  three  minutes;  then 
came  a  shot,  a  cry,  followed  by  another  silence  which  was 
still  more  oppressive  than  the  previous  one.  The  soldiers' 
red  trousers  made  capital  targets  for  the  workmen,  who 
were  thus  able  to  kill  a  great  many  men.  As  for  themselves 
they  were  better  sheltered;  nevertheless,  as  soon  as  ever 
a  shot  was  fired  from  a  window,  that  window  was  at 
once  riddled  with  bullets.  The  rioters,  who  had  gone  up 
to  the  tops  of  the  houses,  and  from  there  cast  down 
showers  of  stones,  suffered  more.  Men  were  several  times 
seen  to  topple  over  from  the  roofs  and  come  down  on 
the  pavement  in  a  coadjulated  mass,  picked  off  like 
sparrows. 

The  fighting  might  have  gone  on  in  this  manner  until 
the  evening.  This  skirmishing  sort  of  warfare  was  in  reality, 
much  more  murderous  than  a  bold,  decisive  attack  would 
have  been,  and  some  thirty  corpses  were  already  weltering 
in  pools  of  blood  on  the  ground. 

Marius  had  descended  into  the  street  at  the  first  shot. 
Not  having  been  able  to  prevent  the  struggle,  he  wished 
at  least  to  assist  those  who  were  fighting.  By  his  care, 
an  ambulance  was  established  in  a  shop  on  the  square, 
and  he  displayed  great  activity  in  seeing  that  the  wounded 
were  carried  there.  At  one  moment  as  he  was  passing 
behind  the  barricade,  a  man  fell  beside  him  mortally 
struck.  He  leant  over  him,  and  was  astonished  to  find 
it  was  Charles  Bletry,  the  dishonest  clerk  of  the  firm  of 
Daste  and  Degans.  The  unfortunate  fellow  recognised 
him  also,  and  seeing  the  young  man  hastening  to  attend 
to  him,  he  said  with  a  faint  smile  : 

"  It's  useless,  Monsieur  Marius,  it's  all  over,  I  am  going 
to  die.  Ah  !  Heaven  is  good  indeed  to  have  sent  you 
to  me  !" 


THE   ATTACK.  351 

He  continued  with  an  effort,  his  fingers  already  becoming 
rigid  : 

"I  swear  to  you  I  never  discharged  my  gun.  I  was 
led  astray  by  friends,  I  had  to  do  as  others  did.  Listen, 
I  want  you  to  render  me  a  service.  Promise  me  you  will 
perform  my  last  wish." 

Bletry  raised  himself,  painfully,  and  unfastened  a  belt 
round  his  waist.  While  handing  it  to  Marius,  he  was 
seized  with  a  convulsion,  and  as  the  belt  fell  to  the  ground 
a  few  pieces  of  money  came  out  of  it.  As  soon  as  the 
former  clerk  was  in  a  condition  to  speak,  he  said  : 

"That  belt  contains  a  hundred  francs.  Kindly  hand 
it  to  Messrs.  Daste  and  Degans,  and  tell  them  it  is  not 
my  fault  if  I  have  not  been  able  to  reimburse  them  all 
the  money  I  turned  to  such  bad  account." 

And  as  Marius  looked  at  him  in  astonishment,  he  mur- 
mured in  a  voice  that  was  dying  away  : 

"  You  don't  know.  They  let  me  off  two  years.  I  have 
now  been  out  of  prison  for  three  years,  and  during  that 
time  have  been  working  as  a  navvy.  On  the  hundred 
and  thirty  francs  I  have  been  earning  each  month,  I  have 
made  a  point  of  handing  a  hundred,  regularly,  to  my 
former  employers.  I  have  not  been  able  to  refund  more 
than  three  thousand  and  a  few  hundred  francs,  but  I  had 
hopes  of  earning  more  later  on,  and  I  had  intended 
devoting  all  my  life  to  the  repayment  of  my  debt.  Death 
has  come  too  soon." 

The  words  were  distorted  in  his  throat.  He  had  a 
short  death  struggle,  and  expired,  his  features  convulsed 
and  his  limbs  rigid. 

Marius  had  felt  a  sort  of  respect  in  presence  of  this 
terrible  death.  The  wretched  being  who  was  lying  there, 
seemed  so  full  of  grief  and  remorse.  He  picked  up  the  belt 
and  was  going  away  with  it,  when  he  heard  a  dreadful  noise 
in  the  direction  of  the  Rues  de  la  Lime  d'Or  and  Vieille 
Monnaie.  All  at  once  he  saw  the  soldiers  and  National 
Guards  advance  from  those  streets  and  invade  the  square. 

During  the  few  minutes  Marius  had  spent  with  Bletry 
•serious  events  had  been  occurring.  While  the  firing 
continued  at  the  barricade  in  the  Grande  Rue,  two  other 


352  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

bodies  of  troops  had  attacked  the  rioters  by  the  narrow 
thoroughfares  in  the  old  town. 

A  column  came  to  lay  siege  to  the  Place  aux  QEufs  by 
the  Rue  Requis  Novis,  but  on  reaching  the  Rue  Pierre 
qui  Rage,  and  perceiving  the  barricade  the  rioters  had 
erected  there,  it  halted.  A  police  commissary,  who  was 
at  the  head,  then  advanced,  and  exhorted  the  work- 
men to  return  peacefully  to  their  occupations.  The  only 
answer  they  gave  was  that  the  people  had  been  provoked; 
and,  almost  at  the  same  moment,  he  had  his  arm  broken 
with  a  bullet.  He  had  barely  time  to  withdraw,  when 
firing  became  general,  and  was  accompanied  by  an 
avalanche  of  stones  and  tiles  falling  on  the  soldiers'  heads. 
There  was  a  noise  like  the  rumbling  sound  of  thunder, 
and  the  street  became  full  of  smoke.  The  soldiers  in 
surprise,  threw  themselves  on  either  side,  along  the  houses; 
and  a  skirmishing  warfare  commenced  as  in  the  Grande 
Rue.  These  encounters  at  cross  roads  are  terrible,  fora 
few  men  are  often  able  to  keep  an  army  at  bay. 

While  firing  was  thus  proceeding  at  two  points,  another 
column,  destined  to  be  more  fortunate,  advanced  towards 
the  barricade,  blocking  up  the  Grande  Rue,  from  the  side 
of  the  Law  Courts.  This  column  which  had  come  from 
the  Hotel  de  Ville,  did  not  approach  very  near.  As  soon 
as  one  of  the  sentinels  had  fired,  it  withdrew ;  and  seeing 
it  was  impossible  to  carry  the  entrenchment  without 
artillery,  decided  on  turning  the  position. 

It,  therefore,  entered  the  Rue  Belzunce,  where  it  found 
some  thirty  rioters  who  fired  and  then  ran  away,  some 
into  the  Rue  des  Marquises,  the  others  into  the  Rues 
Sainte  Marthe,  Sainte  Barbe  and  Moulin  d'  Huile.  The 
soldiers  followed  them  at  double  quick  time,  receiving  a 
few  shots  to  which  they  answered,  and  searching,  more- 
over, two  or  three  houses  where  they  arrested  a  certain 
number  of  people;  but  they  did  not  dare  enter  the  Rue 
des  Marquises,  which  would  have  led  them  straight  to 
the  Place  aux  CEufs.  This  street,  which  they  supposed 
to  be  barricaded,  seemed  to  them  narrow  and  dangerous 
and  they  feared  being  crushed  beneath  an  avalanche  of 
objects  cast  from  the  roofs  and  windows. 


THE   ATTACK.  353 

The  column  continued  turning  the  stronghold.  On 
reaching  the  Place  Sainte  Martin,  it  divided :  one  part 
going  into  the  Rue  de  la  Lune  d'Or  and  the  other  into 
the  Rue  de  la  Vieille  Monnaie.  The  idea  was  to  issue 
in  a  body  on  the  Place  aux  CEufs,  where  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  two  of  the  detachments  arrived  almost  simultaneously. 

The  soldiers  rushed  on  to  the  barricades,  which  on  this 
side  had  been  less  solidly  built,  and  the  rioters,  surprised 
at  this  irresistible  charge,  fled  in  disorder,  seeking  refuge  in 
the  houses.  There  they  stopped  the  column,  for  a  few 
moments,  by  opening  a  well-fed  fire  upon  it  from  the 
windows.  But  this  fire  soon  slackened,  and  the  soldiers 
passing  beneath  the  bullets  at  the  double,  found  themselves 
in  the  centre  of  the  Place  aux  CEufs.  When  Marius  per- 
ceived the  uniforms  of  the  conquerors,  he  understood  his 
brother  would  be  lost  if  he  were  not  able  to  place  him 
beyond  danger  of  arrest.  He  ran  to  the  barricade  in  the 
Grande  Rue,  where  Philippe,  with  his  back  turned 
to  the  square,  had  been  so  busy  with  the  defence 
on  that  side,  that  he  had  not  perceived  the  victory 
of  the  military  in  the  rear.  Marius  soon  found  him,  but 
as  the  two  brothers  set  out  towards  the  house  where  Fine 
and  Joseph  were,  they  saw  that  they  would  not  have  time 
to  reach  the  door,  so  they  rushed  in  at  another  one, 
which  was  opposite,  and  barricaded  the  entrance  in  despair, 
not  daring  to  refer  to  their  mutual  alarm  at  being  obliged 
to  abandon  the  young  woman  and  child. 

A  frightful  tumult  reigned  on  the  square.  As  soon  as 
the  rioters  saw  the  soldiers  and  National  Guard  advanc- 
ing to  secure  the  position,  they  imitated  Philippe  and 
Marius  and  fled  for  refuge  into  the  adjoining  houses. 
The  columns  attacking  the  barricades  in  the  Grande  Rue, 
and  the  Rue  Requis  Novis,  were  at  first  astounded  to  see 
the  firing  cease.  Then,  guessing  what  was  taking  place, 
they  removed  the  abandoned  obstructions  and  advanced 
to  join  the  conquerors.  The  square  was  thus  full  of  troops, 
preparing  to  besiege  the  houses  amidst  a  most  deafening 
din.  It  was  at  that  moment  that  the  man  watching  over 
the  three  prisoners  in  the  little  shop,  fled.  Matheus 
slipped  into  the  crowd  and  disappeared;  whilst  M.  Mar- 

23 


354  THE   MYSTERIES    OF  MARSEILLES. 

telly  and  Abbe  Chastanier,  sad  and  motionless,  remained 
standing  on  the  threshold,  in  the  expectation  of  terrible 
reprisals;  and,  occasionally,  the  inquisitive  head  of  M. 
Girousse  showed  itself  at  the  window,  which  he  had  not 
left  since  the  commencement  of  the  action. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IN   WHICH   MATHEUS,    AT   LAST,    GETS  JOSEPH 
IN   HIS  ARMS. 

SAUVAIRE  had  lost  sight  of  M.  de  Cazalis  on  entering  the 
stronghold,  and  was  furious  at  not  being  able  to  discover 
where  he  could  have  got  to,  after  having  had  the  trouble 
of  watching  him,  for  nearly  an  hour,  under  a  doorway. 
The  worthy  man  continued  to  ignore  his  rank  of  cap- 
tain. He  had  one  fixed  idea,  that  of  coming  to  the 
assistance  of  the  brother  of  his  friend  Marius.  He  turned 
about  on  the  square,  anxious  and  embarrassed,  when  it  all 
at  once  occurred  to  him  that  Philippe  must  be  hidden 
in  Fine's  old  abode.  He  looked  at  the  house  and  caught 
sight  of  the  head  of  M.  de  Girousse. 

"  Eh !  I  say,  you,  up  there !  "  he  shouted  to  the  old 
Count,  "  come  down  quick  and  open  the  door  ?  " 

M.  de  Girousse  who  was  extremely  anxious  about 
Philippe,  decided  to  go  down,  knowing  that  the  two 
brothers  had  taken  refuge  in  the  house  opposite,  and 
hoping  to  be  of  some  help  to  them,  but  when  he  was 
once  below  in  the  corridor,  he  found  himself  in  the 
presence  of  the  rioters,  who  had  fastened  the  bolts,  and 
would  not  allow  him  to  go  out. 

He  succeeded,  however,  with  some  trouble,  in  making 
them  set  the  door  ajar,  and  after  pushing  him  out,  they 
again  closed  it.  Sauvaire  and  M.  de  Girousse  found 
themselves  face  to  face. 

"  Eh  !  the  deuce  !  "  exclaimed  the  ex-master  stevedore, 
"you  should  have  left  the  door  open.  I  am  going  to 
have  you  arrested." 

The  nobleman  examined  the  captain  with  curiosity. 


MATHEUS   GETS  JOSEPH   IN   HIS  ARMS.         355 

"You  are  going  to  have  me  arrested,"  he  said;  "Well! 
arrest  me  yourself,  and  kindly  conduct  me  to  the  persons 
•who  are  over  there." 

He  pointed  to  M.  Martelly  and  Abbe  Chastanier. 
Sauvaire  accompanied  him,  and  apologized,  when  he  heard 
he  had  put  his  hand  on  a  Count  and  wealthy  landlord. 

"  It  only  required  transportation,"  said  M.  de  Girousse 
laughing,  "for  my  day  to  be  complete!" 

He  then  held  a  whispered  conversation  with  the  ship- 
owner, and  explained  to  him  the  position. 

"We  saw  nothing  of  all  that,"  said  M.  Martelly,  "they 
shut  us  up  in  that  shop,  in  the  company  of  an  individual 
who  looked  like  a  regular  villain.  Do  you  say  Philippe 
and  Marius  are  hidden  in  that  house  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  very  much  afraid  they  have  been 
arrested,  but  the  worst  of  it  is,  that  I  have  left  Marius' 
•wife  and  Philippe's  child  in  that  other  house." 

This  news  completed  making  the  ship-owner  quite  sad. 
Abbe  Chastanier,  however,  pointed  out  that  Fine  and 
Joseph  were  not  running  any  very  great  danger:  if  the 
house  were  sacked,  there  would  always  be  time  to  intervene, 
but  they  must  think  above  all  of  the  two  brothers,  and  endea- 
vour to  assist  them  to.  escape.  The  misfortune  was,  that  it 
seemed  almost  impossible  to  do  anything  to  help  them. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  troops  who  had  invaded  the 
rioters'  stronghold  were  not  inactive.  A  few  shots  were 
still  being  fired  from  windows,  here  and  there,  and  this 
had  to  be  put  a  stop  to.  So  the  order  was  given  to 
take,  by  assault,  all  the  houses  that  were  closed,  and  on 
the  roofs  of  which  the  insurgents  were  discharging  their 
last  cartridges.  A  few  sappers  were  sent  forward  and 
these  began  hacking  at  the  doors  with  their  axes. 

Sauvaire  was  in  despair.  He  wished  to  lead  the  soldiers 
away  from  the  dwelling  where  he  supposed  Philippe  was 
hidden,  but  could  see  no  way  of  doing  so.  He  got  his 
men  together,  posted  them  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
square,  and  set  them  searching  other  buildings.  But 
unfortunately  a  shot  was  fired  from  the  very  house  he 
wished  to  protect.  A  lieutenant  was  wounded,  and  all 
the  soldiers  rushed  towards  the  door. 


356  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   ^lARSEILLES. 

"The  idiots!  "  murmured  Sauvaire,  "what  need  had  they 
to  wound  that  man !  Now  my  young  friend's  affair  is  settled. >r 

He  approached,  wishing  at  least  to  be  one  of  the  first 
.to  enter  the  place. 

While  these  events  were  occurring,  Matheus  and  M.  de 
Cazalis  were  engaged  in  animated  conversation  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  square.  The  spy,  with  his  piercing  eyes,  had 
perceived  his  master  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  as  soon  as- 
he  got  out  of  the  shop.  When  he  had  taken  him  aside,, 
he  said,  in  a  jeering  tone : 

"  Well !  don't  you  congratulate  me  ?  I  have  been  doing 
a  tremendous  lot  of  work.  " 

"  I  didn't  see  you  on  the  barricade,"  answered  the  ex- 
deputy. 

"  Of  course !  those  simpletons  took  the  precaution  of 
placing  me  beyond  danger  of  the  bullets,  by  shutting  me 
up  in  a  shop,  and  I  feel  very  thankful  to  them  for  doing- 
so.  Come,  victory  is  on  our  side.  " 

"  Where  did  you  take  the  child  to  ?  " 

"  Eh !  you're  in  too  great  a  hurry.  I'll  hand  you  the 
child  presently.  Look !  he  is  there,  in  that  house,  where 
they  are  bursting  open  the  door.  " 

Matheus  then  explained  to  M.  de  Cazalis  what  he  haor 
done,  and  what  there  still  remained  to  do.  He  was  cer- 
tain of  success. 

"  However,  "  he  added,  "  we  must  act  promptly.  They 
imprisoned  with  me,  I  was  unable  to  understand  why,, 
two  friends  of  the  Cayols.  Look !  they're  still  standing 
on  the  threshold  of  our  common  gaol.  I  am  afraid 
their  presence  will  be  to  our  disadvantage.  " 

M.  de  Cazalis  looked,  and  recognised  M.  Martelly  andi 
Abbe  Chastanier.  He  did  not  see  M.  de  Girousse,  who 
was  turning  his  back  to  him. 

"  Bah  !  "  he  murmured,  "  they're  not  troubling  about  us. 
To  work,  Matheus!  I'll  double  the  promised  reward  if 
you  succeed. " 

The  sappers  had  just  given  the  first  strokes  of  the  axe,, 
which  were  producing  dull  thuds  on  the  door. 

"  And  do  you  know  where  that  villain  Philippe  has  got 
to?"  inquired  M.  de  Cazalis. 


MATHEUS   GETS  JOSEPH   IX   HIS  ARMS.  357 

"  I  hope  he's  been  arrested,  "  answered  Matheus,  "  in 
any  case  he  will  be  caught  if  he  has  taken  refuge  in  the 
house.  Have  no  anxiety,  his  affair  is  settled,  he'll  get  at 
least  ten  years'  transportation.  " 

"  I'd  sooner  finish  with  him  here.  I  had  him  at  the 
end  of  my  gun.  Aren't  you  afraid  that  if  he  be  in  the 
house,  he  will  interfere  with  your  plans  ?  " 

"Bah!  he's  hidden  at  the  bottom  of  some  cupboard. 
Look  out !  the  door  is  giving  way.  Don't  meddle  with 
anything,  watch  me  act,  if  it  amuses  you,  and  as  soon 
as  I  have  the  child,  follow  me  quickly.  We'll  settle  our 
account  later  on.  " 

Matheus  left  his  master  in  the  centre  of  the  square 
and  mixed  with  the  soldiers.  The  axes  of  the  sappers 
had  cut  through  the  woodwork  of  the  door,  and  although 
the  hinges  and  lock  still  held  good,  it  was  on  the  point 
of  being  broken  down.  Sauvaire  had  followed  this  per- 
formance with  anxiety.  He  had  counted  on  gathering 
his  own  men  together,  and  entering  the  house  first.  Just 
as  the  door  began  to  give  way,  he  felt  a  hand  on  his 
arm,  and  turning  round,  recognised  his  old  manager  Cadet,' 
Fine's  brother.  The  young  man  dragged  him  quickly 
aside,  and  in  a  choking  voice  asked : 

"What  has  happened?  Have  you  seen  my  sister?" 

But  before  the  ex-master  stevedore  could  answer,  he 
continued  : 

"  I  and  my  men  have  been  confined  to  the  office  since 
this  morning.  The  authorities,  being  aware  of  my  opinions, 
placed  a  picket  of  National  Guards  at  my  door,  and  I 
have  only  just  been  able  to  escape.  I  ran  to  my  brother- 
in-law's  lodging,  on  the  Cours  Bonaparte,  and  found  the 
house  emptv.  Goodness,  gracious!  what  has  happened? 
Speak,  quick !  " 

"Good  Heavens!"  murmured  Sauvaire,  "a  misfortune 
never  comes  singly.  The  whole  family  must  be  in  this 
house." 

"Do  you  think  my  sister  is  there?" 

"  Eh!  I  don't  know.  What  I  do  know  is  that  I  saw  Phi- 
lippe, on  the  barricade  fighting  like  a  maniac.  All !  my  poor 
Cadet.  I'm  very  much  afraid  all  this  will  end  very  badly. 


358  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

But  I  forgot:  your  enemy  is  prowling  about  the  square.'' 

"  What  enemy  ?  " 

"M.  de  Cazalis.     He's  disguised  as  a  National  Guard.'' 

Cadet  shuddered.  All  at  once  he  perceived  the  door 
had  been  broken  in. 

"  Let's    run    there    quick !  "   he  exclaimed. 

As  soon  as  the  entrance  was  clear,  a  swarm  of  soldiers 
rushed  forward,  but  three  or  four  shots  were  fired  from 
the  staircase  and  the  "besiegers  withdrew  in  disorder. 
For  a  few  moments  no  one  dared  penetrate  within  the 
passage.  The  insurgents  had  spent  their  last  cartridges, 
and  after  this  show  of  defence,  had  bounded  up  on 
to  the  roof  to  try  and  escape.  After  the  first  moment  of 
panic,  the  soldiers  made  up  their  minds  to  advance 
cautiously  to  the  foot  of  the  staircase;  then,  seeing  they 
met  with  no  resistance,  they  invaded  the  house  and 
searched  in  every  corner. 

Sauvaire  and  Cadet  had  committed  the  imprudence  of 
retiring  a  short  distance  away,  for  the  purpose  of  talking, 
and  when  they  endeavoured  to  approach  the  door  again, 
'they  found  themselves  behind  a  regular  crowd,  which 
prevented  them  advancing.  Notwithstanding  all  their 
efforts  they  had  to  beat  time  a  long  while,  and  when  they 
at  last  entered,  they  were  only  able  to  get  up  the  staircase 
very  slowly,  on  account  of  its  being  so  full  of  soldiers  and 
National  Guards. 

As  they  reached  the  third  floor  they  were  jostled  by  a 
man  who  was  running  away  and  knocking  up  against 
everyone.  This  individual,  whom  the  besiegers  took  for  a 
terrified  lodger,  had  a  child  in  his  arms.  He  passed  so 
rapidly,  half  hiding  his  charge  beneath  his  frock  coat,  that 
Cadet  did  not  get  a  good  view  of  him;  the  young  man, 
however,  turned  round,  as  if  feeling  a  presentiment  that 
something  was  wrong,  but  the  man  had  then  already 
descended  five  or  six  stairs.  Fine's  brother,  pushed  on 
by  Sauvaire,  who  had  seen  nothing,  continued  to  ascend, 
and  soon  found  himself  at  the  entrance  to  the  little  lodging. 

This  door  was  wide  open,  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
first  room,  Fine  lay  unconscious  on  the  ground.  Joseph 
had  disappeared. 


HOW   PHILIPPE   FIRED   A   LAST   SHOT.          359 

CHAPTER  XX. 
HOW   PHILIPPE   FIRED   A   LAST   SHOT. 

FINE'S  anguish  during  the  struggle,  had  been  terrible. 
Each  shot  had  made  her  tremble,  for  she  thought  to  herself 
with  horror,  that  the  bullet  had  perhaps  killed  one  of  hers. 
She  would  have  liked  to  have  been  below  in  the  street, 
sharing  the  peril  of  Marius  and  Philippe,  but  the  necessity 
of  looking  after  Joseph  confined  her  to  that  room  where 
she  was  dying  with  anxiety.  The  poor  child  was  as  white 
as  a  sheet  and  his  teeth  were  set  firmly  together,  but  he 
was  not  crying.  With  his  face  hidden  in  the  young 
woman's  lap,  and  his  little  arms  clutching  her  waist,  he 
stood  motionless  and  mute. 

On  several  occasions  bullets  entered  by  the  window, 
cutting  up  the  furniture  and  becoming  embedded  in  the 
wall.  Fine  gazed  at  the  holes  made  by  these  projectiles 
with  stupor.  She  tried  to  make  herself  smaller,  caught  up 
Joseph,  and  clasped  him  closely  in  her  arms.  She  did  not 
care  about  herself,  but  an  icy  shiver  ran  through  her  frame 
when  she  thought  that  a  bullet  might  rebound  and  strike 
the  child  she  was  pressing  to  her  bosom. 

This  torment  lasted  more  than  an  hour,  she  listened 
with  anxiety  to  the  least  sound.  All  at  once  from  the 
tumult  that  arose  from  the  Square,  she  understood  that 
the  barricades  had  been  carried.  She  felt  relieved,  but 
this  feeling  was  soon  followed  by  increased  anxiety.  As 
the  firing  had  ceased,  she  ventured  to  approach  the  win- 
dow, and  throw  a  glance  outside. 

Suddenly  she  was  seized  with  the  most  horrible  fear. 
She  asked  herself  why  Marius  and  Philippe  had  not  come 
upstairs  again  after  the  barricades  had  been  taken  ?  They 
ought  to  have  hurried  up  there,  to  hide  themselves  beside 
her.  If  they  had  not  come,  it  was  because  they  were 
taken  prisoners  or  perhaps  killed.  Her  mind  which  was 
tormented  with  the  most  frightful  thoughts,  would  admit 
of  no  other  solution.  Then,  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
saw  her  husband  and  brother-in-law,  stretched  out  welter- 


360  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

ing  in  their  blood,  or  being  led  away  to  prison  by  the 
soldiers,  and  these  pictures,  which  she  conjured  up  in  her 
terrible  grief,  caused  her  to  burst  out  sobbing. 

As  she  was  gazing  on  the  square,  she  perceived  the 
troops  rushing  towards  the  house.  She  rapidly  withdrew 
from  the  window,  and  almost  immediately  heard  the  blows 
of  the  axes.  Joseph  began  to  fret;  his  fright  which  had 
hitherto  been  mute,  now  showed  itself  in  most  piercing 
cries.  He  called  his  father,  clung  to  Fine's  neck,  yelled 
out  that  he  didn't  want  the  soldiers  to  come  and  take  him. 

The  poor  child's  shrieks  had  the  effect  of  causing  the 
young  woman  to  completely  lose  her  head.  She  rushed 
on  to  the  staircase,  wanted  to  go  down  and  run  to  Marius 
and  Philippe.  But  she  had  not  reached  the  second  floor 
before  she  heard  the  door  give  way  and  fall  in.  At  the 
same  instant  the  rioters  who  were  hidden  in  the  corridor 
hastened  upstairs,  after  having  discharged  their  weapons. 
For  a  moment  she  hesitated;  a  muffled  sound  came  from 
the  vestibule,  and  she  soon  heard  the  footsteps  of  the 
besiegers  approaching  her.  She  remained  firm,  and  would, 
perhaps,  have  stayed  there,  if,  leaning  over  the  ban- 
nister, she  had  not  caught  sight  of  the  man  who  was 
coming  up  first.  That  man  was  Matheus.  She  thought 
herself  in  presence  of  the  phantom  of  her  despair.  As 
if  fascinated,  with  her  eyes  increased  in  volume  with 
horror,  she  ascended  the  stairs  one  by  one,  retreating 
before  Matheus  who  never  ceased  glaring  at  her.  As  she 
entered  the  room,  and  before  she  had  time  to  shut  herself 
in,  he  sprang  upon  her,  and  tore  Joseph  from  her  arms. 
She  uttered  a  faint  cry;  which  was  the  only  defence  she 
could  offer,  for  she  was  broken-down  with  emotion  and 
staggering  on  her  legs.  When  she  no  longer  felt  the  child 
in  her  arms,  she  stretched  her  hands  out  before  her  as  if 
to  regain  possession  of  the  dear  treasure,  and,  encounter- 
ing naught  but  emptiness,  fell  stiff  to  the  floor. 

None  of  the  soldiers  who  were  searching  the  house 
noticed  this  scene,  but  the  abduction  had  all  the  same 
been  witnessed  by  two  people  in  a  neighbouring  building. 

The  house  in  which  Marius  and  Philippe  had  taken 
refuge  by  chance,  stood  at  the  corner  of  the  square  on 


HOW  PHILIPPE   FIRED   A  LAST  SHOT.  361 

the  other  side  of  the  Grande  Rue.  By  a  happy  circumstance 
the  two  brothers  were  the  only  insurgents  who  had  entered 
it,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  inside,  they  had  bolted  the 
door.  The  staircase  was  silent  and  deserted  and  the 
tenants  who  were  barricaded  in  their  respective  dwellings, 
took  very  good  care  not  to  show  themselves.  Marius  and 
Philippe  sat  down  for  a  moment  on  the  first  stair,  and 
held  council.  They  hardly  knew  how  they  would  be  able 
to  escape  the  search  of  the  soldiers  who,  from  one  moment 
to  another,  might  burst  the  door  open.  The  only  chance 
remaining  to  them  was  to  escape  by  the  roofs;  but  this 
retreat  would  be  very  dangerous;  and,  besides,  although 
the  peril  of  remaining  where  they  were  was  intense,  they 
wished  to  do  so  in  order  to  make  sure  that  Fine  and 
Joseph  ran  no  risk. 

"  We  ought  not  to  have  abandoned  them,"  said  Philippe; 
"  it  was  cowardly  on  our  part,  to  have  thought  only  of  our 
own  personal  safety." 

"  Don't  let  us  despair,"  answered  Marius,  who  had  been 
endeavouring  to  comfort  himself,  whilst  trying  to  assuage 
his  brother's  anxiety.  "  We  should  have  perhaps  done 
ourselves  needless  harm.  Fine  is  strong  and  courageous." 

"  No  matter,  I'll  only  consent  to  fly  when  my  mind's 
easy  on  their  account.  Listen !  They're  breaking  in  a 
door.  Let  us  go  up  quick." 

They  ascended  to  the  first  floor  and  saw  with  the  greatest 
alarm,  that  the  house  which  was  being  besieged  was  the 
one  opposite.  For  the  space  of  a  few  minutes  they  re- 
mained motionless  and  breathless:  each  stroke  of  the  axe 
found  an  echo  in  their  breasts.  Never  in  their  lives  had 
they  felt  such  emotion.  They  followed  the  different  phases 
of  the  siege  with  painful  anxiety,  but  their  greatest  suffering, 
after  all,  was  their  powerlessness  to  do  anything:  they  could 
not  run  to  the  assistance  of  those  whom  they  believed  in 
peril,  but' must  stay  where  they  were  with  their  hands  tied, 
and  watch  this  onslaught  of  a  crowd  of  furious  soldiers. 

All  at  once  Philippe  uttered  a  savage  cry.  He  had  just 
caught  sight  of  Matheus  in  the  first  rank  of  the  besiegers 
and  pointed  him  out  to  his  brother. 

"Ah!    the  wretch,"  he  murmured  bitterlv,  "I  ought  to 


362  THE    MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

have  let  them  hang  him.  He  must  have  escaped,  and 
is  there  to  steal  Joseph." 

He  was  turning  round,  when  another  cry  escaped  him, 
and  he  pointed  out  to  Marius  a  National  Guard  half 
hidden  behind  one  of  the  trees  on  the  square. 

"Cazalis!"  he  exclaimed  in  a  choking  tone,  and  bringing 
his  musket  to  his  shoulder  he  continued: 

"  I   have   but   one  bullet  left,  and  it  shall  be  for  him." 

He  was  about  to  fire,  but  Marius  tore  the  gun  away 
from  him  saying: 

"No  unnecessary  murder!  We  shall  perhaps  want  that 
bullet.  It's  regular  foul  play." 

At  the  same  moment  the  door  gave  way  beneath  the 
blows  of  the  axe. 

"  Let's  go  up  higher,"  continued  Marius. 

They  ascended  to  the  third  floor  where  a  terrible  sight 
awaited  them.  Exactly  opposite  was  the  window  of  the 
room  where  Fine  and  Joseph  were.  They  saw  the  young 
woman  wringing  her  hands,  but  were  unable  to  cry  out 
to  her,  amidst  the  tumult,  that  they  were  watching  over 
her,  and  they  were  thus  pale  and  trembling  spectators  of 
the  abduction.  When  Fine  went  downstairs  they  followed 
her  with  their  eyes,  each  window  having  a  landing  looking 
on  to  the  street.  Then,  they  saw  her  come  up  again,  retreat- 
ing before  Matheus.  The  next  thing  was  Matheus  entering 
the  room  and  tearing  Joseph  from  the  young  woman's  arms. 

Marius  returned  Philippe  his  musket  saying  to  him  in  a 
husky  voice: 

"I  felt  we  should  have  need  of  that  last  cartridge." 

Philippe  brought  the  weapon  to  his  shoulder,  but  the 
barrel  shook  in  his  hand's.  He  was  afraid  of  hitting  his 
son,  and  so  Matheus  was  able  to  leave  the  room  and 
commence  going  downstairs.  When  the  villain  passed 
before  the  window  on  the  second  floor  landing,  Philippe 
again  felt  himself  shaking  and  could  not  pull  the  trigger. 

"  If  you  let  him  reach  the  street,"  murmured  Marius, 
"we  shall  lose  the  child." 

Then  Philippe  made  a  violent  effort  and  recovered  his 
customary  coolness.  He  rested  the  barrel  on  the  window 
sill  and  waited  for  Matheus  to  pass  again. 


HOW   PHILIPPE   FIRED   A   LAST   SHOT.  363 

As  the  spy,  who  continued  to  descend,  placed  his  foot 
on  the  first  floor  landing,  the  gun  went  off. 

Sauvaire  and  Cadet,  who  were  attending  to  Fine,  raised 
their  heads  at  the  report,  and  perceived  the  two  brothers 
leaning  anxiously  out  of  one  of  the  windows  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street,  endeavouring  to  find  out  the 
effect  of  the  shot.  The  ex-master  stevedore  uttered  a  cry 
of  surprise  and  satisfaction :  he  now  knew  the  whereabouts 
of  those  whom  he  wished  to  protect.  Cadet  had  a  sudden 
presentiment  of  what  had  just  occurred.  Not  having  found 
the  child  in  the  room,  he  had  at  once  thought  of  the 
man  who  had  dashed  past  him  on  the  stairs.  He  ran 
down  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  found  a  strange  sight 
awaiting  him  on  the  first  floor. 

Matheus  with  his  head  smashed,  was  lying  on  the 
landing.  In  falling,  he  had  opened  his  arms,  and  Joseph 
had  slipped  on  to  him  without  doing  himself  any  injury. 
Philippe's  bullet  had  lodged  in  the  spy's  skull  passing 
close  to  the  child's  forehead.  The  latter  recovering  from 
the  fainting  fit  which  had  helped  Matheus  to  carry  him 
off  easily,  and  resting  half  on  the  corpse  began  to  cry 
bitterly.  Cadet  pushed  aside  the  dead  body  and  took 
the  little  boy  in  his  arms.  He  had  got  half  way  upstairs, 
again,  when  a  sudden  thought  struck  him,  and  going  down 
again  he  searched  the  corpse,  taking  all  the  papers  he 
could  find  on  it.  These,  he  was  sure,  would  be  useful. 

When  he  returned  to  the  room  on  the  third  floor,  he 
found  Sauvaire  very  much  embarrassed,  not  knowing  what 
remedy  to  administer  to  Fine  who  was  still  unconscious. 
The  worthy  man  had  confined  himself  to  placing  her  on 
the  bed,  and  Cadet  put  Joseph  beside  her.  The  child 
immediately  clasped  the  young  woman  round  the  neck, 
nestling  close  up  to  her,  quite  happy  at  having  his 
favourite  place  again,  and  brought  her  back  to  life  with 
his  caresses.  She  raised  herself  up  and  kissed  Joseph 
passionately.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  awakening 
from  a  frightful  nightmare.  All  of  a  sudden  she  turned 
pale  again. 

"Where  are  Marius  and  Philippe?"  she  inquired.  "Hide 
nothing  from  me,  I  beg  of  you." 


364  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

When  Cadet  had  pointed  out  the  two  brothers  to  her 
in  the  adjoining  house  she  remained  for  a  time  motionless 
-and  quite  absorbed  with  joy.  All  danger  was  not  over 
for  them,  assuredly,  but  they  lived,  and  for  the  moment 
she  did  not  ask  for  anything  more.  Philippe  and  Marius 
also  had  good  cause  to  be  thankful.  The  former,  after 
having  discharged  his  gun,  felt  quite  overcome,  his  eyes 
were  bursting  with  tears  and  he  uttered  a  cry  of 
terror  on  seeing  Matheus  and  the  child  fall.  For  an 
instant,  he  felt  as  if  he  were  choking,  being  unable  to 
•distinguish,  through  the  smoke,  whether  he  had  struck  his 
•son  or  not.  But  when  Marius  heard  the  cries  of  the  little 
one  whom  Cadet  had  just  brought  into  the  room,  he 
exclaimed  : 

"Look!" 

Then  the  two  brothers  followed  the  scene  that  was 
passing  before  them  with  profound  happiness.  They  saw 
Fine  and  Joseph  safe  and  sound,  and  said  to  each  other 
that  they  ran  little  risk  themselves,  now  that  they  had 
friends  at  hand  to  defend  them.  What  gave  them  still 
further  confidence  was  to  see  M.  Martelly  and  Abbe  Chas- 
tanier  go  up  into  the  room  conducted  there  by  M.  de 
Girousse.  These  three  gentlemen  had  followed  the  soldiers 
into  the  house  in  order  to  protect  the  young  woman,  and 
had  no  idea  of  the  rapid  drama  that  had  just  occurred 
there.  The  sight  of  the  corpse  on  the  staircase  had  made 
them  run  up  hurriedly,  and  as  soon  as  they  reached  the 
room,  they  heard  what  had  happened  from  Fine  and  Cadet. 

"This  Cazalis  is  a  scoundrel,"  exclaimed  M.  de 
Girousse,  "I'll  undertake  to  settle  him.  But  before  all, 
we  must  think  of  how  we  can  shelter  Marius  and  Philippe 
from  the  search  of  the  troops.  Indeed,  there  is  no  time 
to  lose.  Look  !  " 

He  pointed  to  the  square.  The  position  of  the  two 
brothers  was  becoming  critical.  The  shot  fired  by  Philippe 
had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  troops  to  the  house 
where  they  had  taken  refuge,  and  sappers  were  already 
belabouring  the  door  with  heavy  blows  from  their  axes. 

"They  have  only  one  chance  of  safety,"  said  M. 
Martelly,  "to  try  and  escape  by  the  roofs." 


HOW   PHILIPPE   FIRED   A   LAST   SHOT.  365 

"That's  impossible,"  answered  Cadet  excitedly.  "The 
house  is  much  higher  than  those  adjoining  it.  They're 
lost." 

Fine  felt  herself  going  mad  with  despair  again.  All 
those  in  the  room  were  racking  their  brains  in  vain,  and 
the  blows  from  the  axe  were  becoming  more  and  more 
violent.  Suddenly  M.  de  Girousse  addressed  Sauvaire,. 
whom  Cadet  had  presented  to  him  as  a  friend. 

"Cannot  you  make  your  men  stop?"  he  inquired. 

"Eh!  no,"  exclaimed  the  captain  in  despair,  "think 
you  they  obey  so  easily  as  that  in  the  National  Guard  ? 
wait  a  moment,  wait  a  moment  — 

Sauvaire  opened  his  eyes  quite  wide,  and  it  could  be 
seen  that  some  conception  was  being  painfully  evolved 
in  his  mind.  All  at  once  he  said: 

"  I  have  an  idea,  come  with  me,  Cadet." 

The  two  men  ran  rapidly  downstairs,  and  M.  dc  Girousse 
and  the  others  awaited  their  return  with  the  most  painful 
concern.  At  length  they  made  their  appearance,  each 
carrying  a  bundle  of  clothes,  and  Cadet  at  once  made  signs 
to  Marius  and  Philippe  to  open  the  window  behind  which 
they  were  concealing  themselves.  When  they  had  under- 
stood what  he  meant,  and  conformed  to  his  injunctions, 
the  ypung  man  at  the  expense  of  considerable  strength 
and  dexterity,  threw  the  two  bundles  over  to  them.  The 
soldiers  being  busy  below  with  the  door,  failed  to  see 
what  was  passing  above. 

Such  was  the  idea  that  Sauvaire  had  conceived.  Accom- 
panied by  Cadet,  he  had  gone  to  an  ambulance  where 
about  a  dozen  wounded  National  Guards  were  lying,  and 
had  there  quietly  stolen  two  complete  uniforms  amidst 
the  confusion  of  amputations  and  the  dressing  of  wounds. 

Philippe  and  Marius  had  had  all  the  gravity  of  their 
position  brought  home  to  them,  and  were  on  the  point 
of  deciding  to  attempt  escape  by  the  roofs,  when  they 
understood  that  their  friends  were  busying  themselves 
about  their  safety.  As  soon  as  they  had  the  uniforms, 
they  rushed  up  into  the  lofts  where  thev  attired  themselves 
as  National  Guards,  and  had  barelv  had  time  to  do  so 
and  to  throw  their  own  clothes  out  of  a  window  looking 


366  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

on  to  a  neighbouring  courtyard,  when  they  heard  the 
front  door  giving  way.  They  at  once  hid  themselves ;  but, 
after  a  moment  or  two,  cleverly  mingled  with  the  swarm 
of  besiegers,  whom  they  pretended  to  assist  in  the  search, 
and  eventually  quietly  walked  out  into  the  street  where 
they  found  M.  de  Girousse  and  Sauvaire  awaiting  them. 
A  short  distance  further  off,  on  the  square,  were  Cadet  and 
Fine,  with  M.  Martelly  and  Abbe  Chastanier.  The  young 
Avoman,  who  was  carrying  little  Joseph,  had  expressed  the 
•desire  to  return  at  once  to  the  lodging  on  the  Cours 
Bonaparte.  As  soon  as  she  perceived  Marius  and  Philippe 
in  the  street,  she  moved  away  looking  behind  her  at 
•every  step.  She  had  requested  M.  de  Girousse  to  follow 
her  with  the  two  brothers. 

Philippe  and  Marius  warmly  shook  the  ex-master  steve- 
dore's hand,  unable  to  utter  a  word  of  thanks. 

"  All  right,  all  right,"  murmured  the  worthy  man,  who 
•was  very  much  affected,  "  the  least  one  can  do  is  to 
assist  one's  friends,  hang  it!  But  we  must  have  order, 
you  see,  before  everything!  The  National  Guard  was 
only  formed  to  preserve  order.  I'm  the  man  for  duty!" 

And  he  began  to  cry  out  against  the  National  Guards 
who  were  all  in  a  flutter  on  the  square,  whilst  M.  de 
Girousse  and  the  two  brothers  rapidly  moved  away. 

As  Sauvaire  was  trying  to  get  his  men  together,  he 
perceived  M.  de  Cazalis  behind  a  tree  looking  pale  and 
anxious.  He  pretended  not  to  see  him  and  watched  his 
movements.  The  ex-deputy  could  not  understand  the 
strange  events  that  were  passing  around  him.  Since 
Matheus  had  disappeared  in  the  house,  he  awaited  his 
return  without  being  able  to  form  any  idea  of  what  was 
occurring.  When  he  saw  Fine  appear  with  little  Joseph, 
when  he  perceived  that  his  enemies  were  miraculously 
escaping  from  all  his  snares,  he  was  agitated  with  sullen 
rage.  What  added  to  his  anger  was  his  being  tortured 
by  the  idea  that  Matheus  had  betrayed  him. 

"What  can  the  scoundrel  be  doing?"  he  murmured. 
"  He's  sold  himself  to  the  Cayols  and  has  helped  them 
to  escape." 

At  last,  unable  to  restrain  himself  any  longer,  he  made 


HOW   PHILIPPE   FIRED   A   LAST   SHOT.          367 

up  his  mind  to  go  and  see  what  Matheus  could  be  doing 
in  that  house  which  he  did  not  leave.  Had  he  met  him, 
he  would  have  strangled  him.  On  reaching  the  first  floor 
landing  he  came  in  contact  with  his  accomplice's  corpse. 
Livid,  terrified,  and  with  his  mouth  wide  open  he  stood 
and  stared  at  it.  Then,  he  abruptly  stooped  down  and 
searched  it.  When  he  found  the  pockets  were  empty, 
he  was  in  despair,  and  giving  the  dead  man's  body  an 
angry  kick  he  hurried  rapidly  away. 

"I  knew  very  well,"  thought  Sauvaire,  who  had  not  lost 
sight  of  him,  "  that  that  bird  of  ill-omen  must  have  had 
something  to  do  with  the  abduction  of  the  child." 

The  struggle,  however,  was  over,  and  the  troops  victorious. 
It  was  about  four  o'clock.  The  resistance  had  been  smart 
but  of  short  duration.  The  principal  leaders  of  the  rioters 
had  fled  as  soon  as  the  barricades  were  captured,  but  a 
great  many  workmen  were  made  prisoners.  Those  who 
were  unable  to  escape  by  the  roofs  of  the  houses  where 
they  had  taken  refuge,  were  discovered  in  the  cellars, 
cupboards,  under  the  beds,  in  the  chimneys  and  even  in 
the  wells,  where  they  had  thought  they  would  have  been 
in  safety.  When  the  houses  had  been  searched,  the  six 
barricades  were  removed  and  the  Place  aux  CEufs  occupied 
by  the  military. 

There  was  a  family  gathering  at  Marius'  apartment  in 
the  evening.  The  young  couple,  Philippe  and  Joseph, 
had  found  themselves  united  again  amidst  tears  of  joy 
and  tenderness.  M.  de  Giroussc  troubled  their  happiness 
by  pointing  out  that  it  was  necessary  to  make  Philippe 
disappear  as  soon  as  possible,  if  they  did  not  want  to  see 
him  despatched  to  one  of  the  colonies.  He  offered  to 
take  him  with  him  to  Lambesc  on  the  following  day  and 
hide  him  at  one  of  his  houses,  and  this  suggestion  was 
gratefully  accepted.  In  the  meanwhile  Philippe  was  to 
stay  with  M.  Martelly. 

When  he  had  left,  M.  de  Girousse  had  a  long  conversation 
with  Marius  about  M.  de  Cazalis.  Cadet  had  handed  his 
brother-in-law  the  papers  he  had  found  in  the  spy's  pocket, 
and  among  them  was  the  letter  which  the  latter  had  insisted 
on  his  master  giving  him,  and  in  which  he  was  guaranteed 


368  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

a  sum  of  money  for  Joseph's  abduction.  This  document 
was  a  terrible  arm.  Henceforth  the  Cayols  would  be  able 
to  make  Blanche's  uncle  disgorge.  But  Marius  thought 
the  best  thing  would  be  not  to  claim  anything  from  M. 
de  Cazalis,  confining  themselves  to  preserving  the  letter 
as  a  constant  threat  and  so  restrain  the  ex-deputy  from 
taking  any  steps  against  Philippe.  A  scandal,  he  thought, 
would  only  reflect  on  the  whole  family. 

M.  de  Girousse  expressed  his  warm  approbation  of  this 
disinterested  attitude  and  undertook  to  see  M.  de  Cazalis 
personally.  The  next  day  he  called  on  him  and  had  an 
interview  that  lasted  two  hours.  No  one  ever  knew  the 
tenor  of  the  conversation  between  the  two  noblemen,  but 
from  the  loud,  angry  tones  that  reached  the  servants' 
hall,  it  is  supposed  that  M.  de  Girousse  must  have  bitterly 
reproached  the  former  deputy  with  his  unworthy  behav- 
iour and  have  crushed  him  with  the  heel  of  an  upright 
man,  in  order  to  wring  from  him  the  necessary  formal 
promise  to  desist  from  further  persecution.  It  was  thus 
that  the  nobility,  in  regard  to  this  matter,  washed  their 
dirty  linen  in  private.  When  M.  de  Girousse  withdrew, 
the  servants  noticed  that  their  master  accompanied  him 
humbly  to  the  door,  with  lips  firmly  set  together  and  pale 
cheeks. 

An  hour  later  the  old  Count  and  Philippe  were  driving 
along  the  road  to  Lambesc  in  a  cabriolet. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
THE  DUEL. 

A  YEAR  after  the  sanguinary  events  just  related,  the  shadow 
of  death  passed  again  over  Marseilles  and  the  entire  city 
was  touched  by  it.  It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  a  few 
dozen  wounded  :  people  were  struck  down  by  hundreds. 
Civil  war  had  been  followed  by  the  cholera. 

A  history  of  the  numerous  and  terrible  epidemics  that 
have  decimated  Marseilles,  would  be  a  most  painful  one. 
The  position  of  the  city  in  a  warm  climate,  its  constant 


THE   DUEL.  369 

connection  with  Asia,  the  filth  of  its  old  streets,  every- 
thing seems  to  fatally  indicate  it  as  a  hot-bed  of  infection 
where  contagious  diseases  spread  with  frightful  rapidity. 
It  is  threatened  as  soon  as  ever  summer  comes  round. 
At  the  least  negligence,  if  by  mishap  the  scourge  is  allowed 
to  enter  the  city,  it  never  fails  to  gain  all  the  coast  line, 
and,  from  there  to  spread  throughout  France.  The  epidemic 
of  1849  was  relatively  benign.  It  broke  out  about  the 
middle  of  August,  and  it  is  stated  that  it  was  not  serious 
until  a  convoy  of  invalided  troops  were  landed  from  Rome 
and  Algiers.  Fifty  of  these  soldiers  succumbed,  it  is  said, 
on  the  night  following  their  arrival.  From  that  moment 
the  disease  had  taken  firm  hold  in  Marseilles. 

Amidst  the  outbursts  of  political  passion  at  that  time, 
the  government  of  the  Republic  was  bitterly  reproached 
with  a  decree  dated  August  10,  which  authorized  vessels 
from  the  Levant  to  enter  the  Port  on  a  simple  declaration 
from  the  medical  man  on  board.  This  decree  suppressing 
quarantine,  laid  the  city  open  to  the  germs  of  the  disease. 
The  incubation  was  rather  slow.  By  the  end  of  August 
there  were  one  hundred  and  ninety-six  victims,  but  in  the 
following  month  the  mortality  was  terrible,  no  less  than  twelve 
hundred  persons  succumbing.  The  epidemic  died  out  in 
October,  after  nearly  five  hundred  more  people  had  been 
added  to  the  death  list. 

The  inhabitants  were  seized  with  panic  from  the  very 
outbreak  of  the  disease,  and  there  was  a  general  stampede. 
The  news  that  the  cholera  had  again  visited  the  city  ran 
from  quarter  to  quarter  like  a  train  of  gunpowder.  A 
man  had  died  in  frightful  agony,  and  the  case  was  forth- 
with multiplied,  old  women  affirming  they  had  seen  more 
than  a  hundred  burials  go  by.  The  people  spoke  in  an 
undertone  of  poison,  accusing  the  wealthy  of  having  infected 
the  water  at  all  the  pumps,  and  these  statements  increased 
the  panic.  A  poor  wretch  who  was  drinking  at  the 
fountain  on  the  Cours  was  nearly  massacred  because  a 
workman  pretended  he  had  seen  him  throw  something 
into  the  water.  Fright  produced  terrible  effect  upon  the 
lively  imagination  of  the  crowd.  The  inhabitants  believed 
a  foul  vapour  was  passing  over  the  city,  and  the  women 

24 


370  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

walked  about  the  streets  with  handkerchiefs  pressed  to 
their  lips.  Daring  neither  to  drink  nor  breathe,  the 
Marseillese  hardly  existed. 

The  city  was  deserted.  All  who  could  run  away  did 
so.  The  country  houses  in  the  vicinity  were  crowded 
with  refugees.  There  were  even  families  who  went  and 
camped  out  as  far  as  the  hills  of  the  Nerthe,  preferring 
to  live  in  the  open  air  under  a  tent,  to  remaining  in  a 
place  where  they  encountered  death  at  the  corner  of 
every  street.  The  wealthy,  those  who  had  residences 
outside  or  could  rent  them,  were  the  first  to  leave ;  then 
the  employed,  the  workmen,  the  bread-winners  who 
compromised  their  every-day  existence  by  abandoning 
the  work  shops,  lost  courage  in  the  presence  of  the  scourge, 
and  a  great  number  of  them  preferred  to  fly  and  run  the 
risk  of  starving,  so  that  Marseilles,  little  by  little,  became 
dismal  and  empty. 

There  remained  only  men  of  courage  who  either  re- 
sisted the  epidemic  or  regarded  it  with  contempt,  and  the 
poor  wretches  who  were  forced  to  remain  at  their  posts  in 
spite  of  their  fright.  If  there  were  acts  of  cowardice,  such 
as  the  sudden  disappearance  of  doctors  and  functionaries, 
there  were  also  examples  of  energy  and  self-sacrifice. 
Offices  where  assistance  could  be  obtained,  had  been 
opened  in  the  most  severely  -visited  quarters,  from  the 
commencement,  and  there  men  devoted  themselves,  day 
and  night,  to  the  relief  of  the  crazy  population  who  were 
dying  of  fright. 

Marius  was  among  the  first  to  offer  his  services,  but 
in  presence  of  the  tears  of  Fine  and  Joseph,  he  had  to 
give  way  and  consent  to  leave  Marseilles.  He  knew  his 
wife,  she  would  have  remained  at  his  side,  and  shared 
the  danger,  and  the  child  would  then  have  run  the  same 
risk.  The  thought  that  Fine  and  Joseph  might  die  in  his 
arms  had  struck  Marius  with  terror,  and  he  had  ran  away, 
trembling  for  the  safety  of  those  he  loved. 

The  family  found  refuge  at  a  house  which  they 
had  rented  in  the  Saint  Just  quarter  close  to  the  old 
country  residence  of  the  Cayols.  It  was  then  the  end  of 
August.  Philippe  had  remained  with  M.  de  Girousse  at 


THE   DUEL.  371 

Lambesc  for  twelve  months,  and  during  that  time  had  not 
set  foot  in  Marseilles,  waiting  till  the  days  of  June  were 
forgotten.  Indeed,  he  was  not  disturbed.  Inquiries  were 
made  about  him  at  first,  but  powerful  influence  having 
been  exerted  on  his  behalf,  further  search  was  abandoned. 

As  soon  as  he  learned  that  the  young  household  was 
in  the  suburbs  of  Marseilles,  he  bade  good-bye  to  M.  de 
Girousse  and  hurried  off  to  see  his  son.  He  felt  weary 
at  Lambesc  and  soon  convinced  his  brother  that  he  would 
be  able  to  lodge  with  him  without  being  guilty  of  the  least 
imprudence.  The  cholera  had  driven  all  recollection  of  the 
rioting  out  of  peoples'  minds;  and  no  one  thought  of  going 
to  arrest  him  at  a  long  league  from  Marseilles. 

A  delightful  existence  commenced.  While  the  disease 
•was  ravaging  and  striking  terror  into  the  city,  the  inmates 
of  the  little  country  house  in  the  Saint  Just  quarter  were 
enjoying  happy  hours  and  charming  tranquillity.  They 
drifted  into  egotism  in  spite  of  themselves;  after  the  terrible 
blows  they  had  received,  they  bathed  in  happiness.  It 
was  their  turn  not  to  suffer.  They  went  out  but  little, 
finding  the  little  enclosure  surrounding  the  house,  quite 
large  enough  for  fresh  air  and  exercise.  A  fortnight  passed 
very  peacefully,  then  one  morning  Philippe,  who  had  been 
dreaming  all  night  of  the  past,  announced  that  he  was 
going  for  a  walk.  He  went  out  in  the  direction  of  the 
mill  of  Saint  Joseph,  following  the  road  he  had  often 
passed  along  before  to  meet  Blanche. 

When  he  came  to  the  little  pine  wood  behind  the 
country  house,  he  thought  of  that  day  in  May,  that  after- 
noon of  folly,  which  had  thrown  Blanche  into  his  arms 
and  been  the  misfortune  of  his  existence.  That  souvenir 
was  both  sweet  and  bitter.  He  recalled  his  youth,  his 
mad,  burning  passion,  and  at  the  same  time  the  tears  and 
grief  of  the  only  woman  he  had  ever  loved.  Two  great 
tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks  without  his  feeling  them.  As 
he  wiped  them  awav,  and  ga/.cd  around  him,  seeking  for 
the  spot  where  Blanche  had  sat  by  his  side,  he  all  of  a 
sudden  perceived  M.  de  Caxalis,  standing  motionless  in 
the  centre  of  a  path  with  his  terrible  eyes  fixed  upon  him. 

The  ex-deputy  had  been  among  the  first  to  leave  Mar- 


372  THE   MYSTERIES   OF  MARSEILLES. 

seilles.  He  had  taken  refuge  at  his  country  residence  in 
the  Saint  Joseph  quarter,  where  he  was  living  alone,  and 
was  quite  ferocious  with  suppressed  irritation.  Since  his- 
interview  with  M.  de  Girousse  he  had  fallen  into  a  state 
of  despondency  which  was  broken  at  distant  intervals,  by 
frightful  outbursts  of  passion.  Although  a  year  had 
passed,  he  still  heard  the  old  Count's  words  of  indignation 
and  contempt  tinkling  in  his  ears.  These  words  were 
choking  him  and  he  would  fain  have  relieved  himself  by 
wreaking  vengeance  on  someone.  Understanding  that  it 
would  be  impossible  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  M.  cle  Girousse, 
he  ardently  desired  to  find  himself  face  to  face  with  Phi- 
lippe, so  to  end  the  matter  one  way  or  another,  either 
killing  his  enemy  or  being  killed  by  him. 

He  thought  no  more  about  the  money,  he  had  lost  his 
appetite  for  luxury  and  power.  Since  he  had  heard  that 
the  Cayols  abandoned  all  claim  to  his  niece's  fortune  it 
became  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him.  He  now  had  but 
one  great  desire  at  heart:  to  wash  away  M.  de  Girousse's 
expressions  of  contempt  with  the  blood  of  an  enemy. 
And  lo!  all  at  once,  he  met  Philippe  at  a  deserted  spot, 
in  the  middle  of  this  wood  which  belonged  to  him.  He 
had  gone  out,  his  head  bent  down,  seeking  a  means  to 
attain  his  end,  and  chance  placed  him  face  to  face  with 
the  very  person  he  wished  to  meet  to  satisfy  his  vengeance. 

The  two  men  stared  for  a  moment  at  each  other  in 
silence.  They  had  both  stooped,  as  if  to  be  ready  to 
spring  at  each  other's  throats.  Then  each  felt  ashamed 
at  finding  himself  in  the  attitude  of  a  wild  animal,  when 
they  wished  to  act  toward  one  another  as  civilized  animals. 

"I  have  been  seeking  you  for  a  year,"  said  M.  de 
Cazalis  at  last.  "  You  are  in  my  way  and  I'm  in  yours. 
One  of  us  must  disappear." 

"I'm  quite  of  your  opinion,"  answered  Philippe. 

"  I  have  weapons  in  that  house.  Wait  for  me.  In  a 
few  seconds  I'll  be  with  you." 

"  No.  We  cannot  fight  so.  If  I  were  to  kill  you  they 
would  accuse  me  of  murdering  you.  We  must  have 
•witnesses." 

"  And  where  shall  we  find  them  ?  " 


THE   DUEL.  373 

"  In  a  couple  of  hours  both  of  us  can  go  to  Marseilles 
and  be  back  again  with  two  of  our  friends." 

"  Good.     The   meeting  is  for  noon  at  this  same  spot." 

"  Yes,  at  this  same  spot." 

They  had  spoken  in  a  stern  voice  and  without  the 
least  insult.  The  provocation  was  natural,  as  if  it  were, 
a  matter  agreed  upon  long  before. 

Philippe  went  immediately  to  Marseilles,  resolving  to 
keep  his  brother  in  ignorance  of  what  was  about  to 
occur,  for  he  felt  the  encounter  necessary,  and  would  not 
run  the  risk  of  an  obstacle  being  placed  in  the  way  of  it. 

As  he  was  going  down  the  Cours,  he  met  Sauvaire 
tearing  along. 

"Don't  stop  me,"  said  the  ex-master  stevedore  to  him. 
"  I'm  returning  to  the  Aygalades  in  great  haste.  The 
men  are  falling  like  flies  here.  There  were  eighty  deaths 
yesterday." 

Philippe,  without  listening  to  him,  told  him  he  had  a 
duel  on  hand  and  relied  on  him.  When  he  had  named 
his  adversary  Sauvaire  exclaimed : 

"  I'm  your  man,  and  I  would  not  be  sorry  to  see  that 
scoundrel's  brains  blown  out." 

They  called  together  on  M.  Martelly,  whose  courageous 
behaviour  was  causing  universal  admiration  in  Marseilles. 
The  ship-owner  listened  to  Philippe  gravely,  and  thought 
as  he  did,  that  the  duel  was  necessary  and  inevitable. 

"  I  am  at  your  disposal,"  he  answered  simply. 

The  three  men  took  a  cab,  and  at  a  little  before  noon 
entered  the  pine  wood  where  they  had  to  wait  for  M. 
de  Cazalis.  At  length  he  arrived.  After  having  ran  through 
Marseilles  in  search  of  a  couple  of  friends  in  vain,  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  a  barracks  where  two 
obliging  sergeants  consented  to  act  as  witnesses.  As  soon 
as  the  cab  that  brought  them  had  been  sent  to  stand 
near  that  of  Philippe,  the  paces  were  counted  and  the 
weapons  loaded,  rapidly  and  in  silence,  and  without  any 
attempt  being  made  at  reconciliation.  Never  before  had 
preparations  tor  a  duel  been  more  prompt  or  simple. 

When  the  principals  had  been  placed  face  to  face, 
Philippe  whom  fortune  had  favoured,  raised  his  arm  ready 


374  THE   MYSTERIES  OF   MARSEILLES. 

to  fire,  but  he  all  at  once  felt  a  presentiment  and  shud- 
dered. Before  M.  de  Cazalis  had  arrived,  he  had  been 
looking  in  a  melancholy  way  at  the  pines  which  surrounded 
him  and  beneath  which  he  had  courted  in  days  gone  by. 
Chance  is  at  times  cruel.  The  scenery  was  the  same,  the 
vast  heavens  expanded  with  the  same  limpidity,  the  coun- 
try displayed  an  horizon  as  soft  and  peaceful.  When  Phi- 
lippe raised  his  pistol  he  thought  he  remembered  that  he 
was  on  the  very  spot  where  Blanche  had  given  him  her 
first  kiss,  and  that  remembrance  caused  him  singular 
trouble.  He  fancied  he  heard  his  heart  murmur : 

"  Where  I  have  sinned,  there  shall  I  be  punished.  " 

He  pressed  the  trigger  with  a  trembling  hand.  The 
bullet,  badly  aimed,  sped,  and  broke  a  branch  of  one  of 
the  pines. 

M.  de  Cazalis,  in  his  turn,  raised  his  weapon.  He 
aimed  with  contracted  features  and  flaming  eyes.  Sauvaire 
and  Martelly,  looking  very  pale,  waited.  Philippe  with 
his  body  slightly  sideways,  looked  courageously  at  the 
pistol  threatening  him,  but  in  truth  he  did  not  see  it,  he 
was  thinking  in  spite  of  himself,  of  Blanche,  and  he  heard 
all  his  being  crying  louder  than  before : 

"  Where  I  have  sinned,  there  shall  I  be  punished." 

The  pistol  went  off.     Philippe  fell. 

M.  Martelly  and  Sauvaire  ran  up  to  him.  He  had 
sunk  down  on  the  grass  with  his  hand  to  his  right  side. 

"  You  are  touched  ? "  inquired  the  ex-master  stevedore 
in  an  unsteady  voice. 

"I  am  killed,"  murmured  Philippe.  "This  spot  was 
bound  to  be  fatal  to  me." 

And  he  fainted.  The  two  witnesses  consulted  together 
for  an  instant,  whilst  staunching  his  wound.  In  their  haste 
they  had  not  thought  of  bringing  a  doctor  with  them.  It 
was  imperative  to  transport  the  wounded  man  to  Marseilles 
as  rapidly  as  possible 

"Listen,"  said  M.  Martelly,  "we'll  put  him  in  a  cab 
and  I'll  take  him  to  the  hospital,  for  he'll  be  more  promptly 
attended  to  there  than  anywhere  else.  In  the  meanwhile 
you  run  and  tell  his  brother.  Act  so  that  the  young 
woman  and  child  do  not  suspect  anything." 


THE   DUEL.  375 

Both  were  deeply  affected,  it  seemed  that  they  were 
losing  one  of  theirs.  Sauvaire  ran  off  towards  Saint  Just, 
while  M.  Martelly,  assisted  by  the  sergeants,  carried 
Philippe  to  the  vehicle.  M.  de  Cazalis  had  retired,  acting 
the  indifferent,  but  with  his  heart  bounding  with  intense 
delight. 

The  ship-owner  instructed  the  driver  to  go  slowly.  For 
nearly  an  hour  that  the  sad  journey  lasted,  he  supported 
the  unconscious  wounded  man's  pale,  vacillating  head.  He 
had  placed  his  handkerchief  to  the  wound  to  stop  the 
blood ;  but  he  saw  the  patient  so  weak  that  he  feared  he 
would  never  be  able  to  get  him  to  the  hospital  alive. 

They  arrived  at  last.  When  M.  Martelly  stated  that 
Jie  brought  a  wounded  man,  he  was  answered  rather 
abruptly  that  all  the  wards  were  full.  At  length  Philippe 
was  received ;  only  there  was  no  room  and  he  was  taken 
into  a  cholera  ward,  the  doctor  who  had  seen  him  on 
his  admission,  shaking  his  head  and  saying  they  could 
put  him  anywhere,  as  he  was  beyond  all  danger  from  the 
disease. 

M.  Martelly  accompanied  him,  for  he  would  not  go 
away  until  Marius  arrived.  The  ward  into  which  he 
entered  had  a  sinister  look,  and  extended  in  the  dim 
light  to  a  considerable  length;  the  two  rows  of  white  beds 
were  set  against  the  walls  like  tombs,  and  on  them  one 
could  perceive  the  rigidness  of  the  bodies  in  the  furious 
agony  of  death.  Patients  afflicted  with  the  disease  yelled 
and  distorted  themselves  in  this  long  cold  room.  Sisters 
of  Mercy  — slim,  delicate  women  — moved  softly  round  the 
beds  assisting  the  doctors  in  their  work. 

M.  Martelly  had  seated  himself  near  the  mattress  on 
which  Philippe  had  been  placed,  face  to  face  with  death, 
and  watched  the  Sisters  of  Mercy  who  were  quietly 
and  compassionately  attending  to  the  dving.  He  noticed 
one,  a  short  distance  away  from  him,  who  was  comforting 
with  her  tender  words,  the  last  moments  of  an  old  man. 
The  face  of  this  patient,  although  contracted  in  the  death 
agony,  did  not  seem  unknown  to  him.  He  drew  near  and 
recognised  with  pain,  that  it  was  Abbe  Chastanicr.  The 
priest  was  dying,  a  victim  to  his  consummate  charity. 


376  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Since  the  commencement  of  the  epidemic  he  had  not 
taken  an  hour's  repose;  day  and  night  he  ascended  to 
the  garrets  visiting  poor  families  struck  down  by  the 
disease;  he  had  parted  with  all  he  possessed  to  give  help 
to  the  unfortunate,  and  when  he  had  nothing  left  but  the 
clothes  he  wore,  he  had  gone  begging  to  the  rich.  As  he 
was  leaving  a  house  in  the  old  town  that  morning,  he  had 
been  struck  down  with  a  violent  attack  of  cholera  in  the 
street  and  hurried  off  to  the  hospital,  where  for  the  last 
two  hours  h.e  had  been  enduring  the  most  atrocious  agony 
with  exemplary  fortitude. 

When  M.  Martelly  approached  him,  his  eyes  were 
already  covered  with  a  film  and  he  was  unable  to  see 
the  ground,  but  he  nevertheless  recognised  the  ship-owner. 
He  smiled,  but  could  not  utter  a  single  word.  Then, 
raising  a  hand,  he  pointed  to  heaven. 

After  he  was  dead  M.  Martelly  gazed  at  him  for  a 
moment  and  then  returned  to  seat  himself  beside  Philippe 
who  continued  as  rigid  as  a  corpse.  Just  then,  the  young 
Sister  of  Mercy  who  had  knelt  for  an  instant  beside 
Abbe  Chastanier's  body  came  forward  to  see  if  she  could 
not  render  the  wounded  man  some  assistance.  She  had 
hardly  glanced  at  Philippe's  face  when  all  her  features 
were  distorted  with  emotion.  With  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
young  man  and  her  breast  heaving,  she  stood  there,  lost 
in  painful  contemplation. 

At  that  moment  Marius  entered  the  room  followed  by 
Sauvaire.  Seeing  his  brother  extended  stiff  and  livid,  he 
sobbed  aloud.  The  news  of  the  duel  and  Philippe's  wound 
had  come  upon  him  so  abruptly,  that  he  was  quite  stupid. 

As  soon  as  he  was  face  to  face  with  the  wounded  man, 
he  asked  violently  for  a  physician  and  insisted  on  the 
patient  being  saved.  The  doctor  who  was  in  the  ward, 
touched  by  this  outburst  of  grief,  consented  to  sound  the 
wound  again.  Marius  felt  a  burn  in  his  inside  when  his 
brother  uttered  a  plaintive  cry  on  feeling  the  touch 
of  the  instrument.  That  cry  made  the  young  Sister  of 
Mercy  shudder.  As  she  came  forward  Marius  caught 
sight  of  her. 

"  You    here  !  "    he  murmured  angrily,   "  ah !     I  ought  to 


THE   DUEL.  377 

have  expected  you  would  be  present  at  the  last  moments 
of  the  man  whom  your  love  brought  to  misfortune.  You 
are  the  worthy  niece  of  your  uncle  who  has  just  killed  my 
brother." 

The  young  Sister  of  Mercy  had  joined  her  hands.  She 
looked  humbly  and  beseechingly  at  Marius,  half  choked 
by  anguish,  and  unable  to  reply. 

"  Pardon  me,"  continued  the  young  man  immediately, 
"I  know  not  what  I  do.  Do  not  remain  there.  Philippe 
might  see  you  on  opening  his  eyes.  We  must  avoid 
•causing  him  violent  emotion.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

He  spoke  as  a  child  wandering  in  his  mind.  When 
he  had  recognised  Blanche  in  the  costume  of  the  Sisters 
•of  Saint  Vincent  de  Paul,  he  really  thought  he  saw  a 
phantom  rise  up  before  him.  She  reminded  him  of  a 
whole  past  full  of  suffering. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  epidemic,  Blanche  had  begged 
as  a  favour  to  be  allowed  to  work  in  the  hospital  at 
Marseilles.  Perhaps  she  hoped  to  die  there.  Her  devot- 
edness  was  the  admiration  of  all.  She  lived  in  the  midst 
of  death  with  the  courage  and  abnegation  of  a  martyr. 
To  have  seen  her  bending  over  the  frightful  features  of 
the  dying,  no  one  would  have  guessed  that  her  childhood 
had  been  so  weak  and  delicate  and  her  birth  so  illustrious. 
On  several  occasions  they  wanted  to  send  her  away, 
telling  her  she  had  discharged  her  tribute,  but  she  had 
obtained  permission  to  remain,  by  beseeching  the  authorities 
to  allow  her  to  do  so.  For  a  month  she  hud  been  defying 
•death,  and  death  had  respected  her. 

Abbe  Chastanier's  last  agony,  and  the  sight  of  Philippe 
lying  inanimate  before  her,  had  just  given  her  a  shock 
that  broke  her  courage.  She  was  staggering  and  all 
her  human  feelings  had  returned  to  her.  She  retreated 
a  few  steps,  obedient  to  Marius'  gesture,  while  the  doctor 
completed  the  dressing  of  the  wound.  Philippe  at  last 
opened  his  eyes  and  looked  round  about  him  with  an 
expression  of  lively  astonishment,  but  on  seeing  his  brother, 
he  remembered  all. 

Marius,  mastering  his  tears  with  a  violent  effort,  bent 
over  him. 


378  THE   MYSTERIES  OF   MARSEILLES. 

"  I  don't  see  Joseph,"  Philippe  said  to  him,  in  a  voice 
as  faint  as  one's  breath.  "Where  is  he?" 

"  He  is  coming,"  answered  Marius. 

"  Immediately,  is  it  not  so  ?  I  want  to  see  him,  immediately, 
immediately." 

He  closed  his  eyes  again.  Marius  had  told  a  falsehood, 
he  had  run  off  without  telling  Fine  and  Joseph  what  had 
happened,  in  the  desire  of  delaying  their  despair  for  at 
least  a  few  hours,  but  now,  in  face  of  his  brother's  request, 
he  would  have  given  all  he  possessed  in  this  world,  to 
have  brought  the  child  with  him. 

"Shall  I  go  and  fetch  the  little  one?"  asked  Sauvaire, 
who  felt  extremely  uneasy  amidst  all  these  cholera  patients, 
and  yet  dared  not  run  away.  Marius  accepted  the  offer 
at  once,  and  the  ex-master  stevedore  ran  off  immediately. 
Philippe  had  no  doubt  heard  what  had  been  said  for  he 
re-opened  his  eyes  and  thanked  his  brother  with  a  look. 
As  he  turned  his  head,  his  face  became  overspread  with 
a  look  of  happy  ecstasy:  he  had  just  perceived  Blanche, 
who  had  drawn  near  on  hearing  the  sound  of  his  voice. 

"  Am  I  dead  ?  "  he  murmured.     "  Oh  I  dear,  tender  vision." 

And  he  fainted  again. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
THE    PUNISHMENT. 

WHEN  the  vehicle  carrying  away  Philippe  had  gone 
some  distance  from  the  scene  of  the  encounter,  M.  de 
Cazalis  warmly  thanked  the  sergeants  who  had  assisted 
him  as  witnesses. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  to  them,  "  excuse  the  trouble  I 
have  given  you,  and  kindly  allow  me  to  drive  you  back 
to  Marseilles." 

The  sergeants  made  some  difficulty,  saying  that  they 
could  very  well  return  to  town  alone,  but  M.  de  Cazalis 
insisted,  the  truth  being,  that  he  wanted  to  know  if  Philippe 
was  really  dead,  for  he  dared  not  rejoice  until  his  enemy 
had  been  nailed  down  in  his  coffin. 


THE   PUNISHMENT.  379 

As  the  cab  in  which  the  ex-deputy  and  his  two  wit- 
nesses were  seated,  was  coming  out  of  the  Rue  d'Aix,  it 
was  stopped  by  the  solemn  procession  conducting  the 
statue  of  Notre  Dame  de  la  Garde  back  to  her  church. 
This  Virgin  is  the  guardian  saint  of  Marseilles,  and  when 
a  misfortune  overshadows  the  city,  the  inhabitants  carry  it 
along  their  streets,  prostrating  themselves  before  it  and 
beseeching  the  Virgin  to  implore  the  clemency  of  the  Almighty 
on  their  behalf. 

M.  de  Cazalis  was  irritated  at  this  obstruction  for  he 
was  kept  waiting  for  a  long  quarter  of  an  hour  whilst 
dying  of  impatience  to  get  news  of  Philippe,  and  at  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  wished  the  procession  to  the  deuce.  But 
at  the  very  minute  when  the  statue  of  the  virgin  passed 
before  him,  he  all  at  once  felt  a  mortal  shiver  which 
descended  into  his  very  bowels.  He  leant  on  the  shoulder 
of  one  of  the  sergeants,  growing  paler  and  paler,  and 
suddenly  sank  all  of  a  heap  to  the  bottom  of  the  vehicle, 
uttering  plaintive  moans.  He  had  been  brought  down  by 
a  violent  attack  of  the  prevalent  disease.  He  had  escaped 
the  hand  of  Philippe,  and  it  was  the  cholera  that  had 
undertaken  his  punishment.  The  two  sergeants  had  sprang 
from  the  cab,  and  the^crowd,  who  soon  ascertained  that 
they  were  in  presence  of  a  cholera  patient,  fled  from  the 
vehicle,  aghast ! 

"Drive  him  at  once  to  the  hospital,"  cried  one  of  the 
sergeants  to  the  coachman. 

The  man  whipped  up  his  horse,  and  the  cab  entering 
the  old  town,  which  the  procession  had  just  left,  was  in 
a  few  minutes  before  the  hospital  where  two  attendants 
carried  M.  de  Cazalis  into  the  cholera  ward.  Only  one 
empty  bed  remained,  and  he  was  placed  beside  Philippe. 

When  the  ex-deputy  who  was  already  turning  black, 
was  brought  in,  Marius  and  M.  Martdlv,  who  recognised 
him,  had  stepped  back  affrighted,  but  M.  de  Ca/alis  did 
not  immediately  notice  what  neighbours  chance  had  given 
him.  The  disease  was  racking  him  most  terribly.  He 
was  lost.  In  one  of  his  convulsions  he  raised  himself 
and  at  last  perceived  Philippe,  who  was  extended  on  the 
adjoining  bed  still  unconscious.  Then  he  reflected  that 


380  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

he  was  dying  himself,  and  would  not  have  enough  life  to 
enjoy  his  vengeance,  and  at  that  thought  he  fell  back  on 
his  bed  literally  howling  with  rage. 

"  Save  me !  "  he  shouted  out,  "  I  want  to  live.  Oh !  I 
am  wealthy,  I  will  reward  you!  " 

And  he  distorted  himself  in  the  most  frightful  suffering 
exclaiming  that  they  were  tearing  out  his  entrails. 

Philippe  in  the  meanwhile,  had  opened  his  eyes.  The 
hoarse  voice  of  his  enemy,  had  momentarily  drawn  him 
from  the  lethargy  that  was  gaining  possession  of  him,  and 
raising  his  head,  he  stared  at  M.  de  Cazalis  as  if  in  a 
trance.  When  the  latter  saw  the  wounded  man  resuscitated 
and  looking  at  him,  dreamily,  his  rage  and  terror  increased. 

"He  is  not  dead!"  he  yelled.  "Ah!  the  wretch  will 
live,  and  I'm  dying." 

They  contemplated  each  other.  Hatred  brought  them 
together  even  in  death.  Suddenly,  they  heard  a  celestial 
voice  exclaim  amidst  the  silence : 

"  Give  each  other  the  hand,  I  insist  on  it.  One  must 
not  go  into  eternity  in  anger. " 

They  raised  their  heads,  and  perceived  Blanche  beside 
them  standing  erect  in  her  grey  gown.  She  seemed  taller. 
Philippe  joined  his  hands,  without  speaking.  He  thought 
himself  already  on  the  other  side,  where  he  had  often 
dreamed  of  finding  his  sweetheart.  His  dream  continued. 

M.  de  Cazalis  clenched  his  teeth,  when  he  heard  these 
words  of  peace.  The  sight  of  his  niece  exasperated  him. 

"  Who  brought  you  here  ? "  he  cried.  "  You  knew  I 
was  going  to  die,  and  came  to  enjoy  the  sight  of  my 
death. " 

"  Listen,  "  continued  Blanche,  "  the  Almighty  is  going  to 
judge  you.  Do  not  appear  before  Him  with  a  soul  black 
with  hatred.  For  pity's  sake,  give  Philippe  your  hand. " 

"  No,  a  thousand  times  no !  I  would  sooner  be  damned 
than  reconciled  to  him.  When  I  held  him  at  the  end  of 
my  pistol  barrel,  I  knew  he  would  die.  Don't  think 
you'll  save  him,  and  take  him  back  for  a  lover. " 

He  blasphemed,  shook  his  fist  at  Heaven,  vomitted  foul 
words  upon  his  niece  and  Philippe,  but  the  disease 
was  gaining  possession  of  him,  he  felt  himself  already 


THE   PUNISHMENT.  381 

turning  cold,  and  the  horror  of  his  end  made  him  like  a 
mad  animal,  that  was  powerless  to  bite. 

Blanche  had  drawn  back.  She  leant  against  the  bed 
of  the  wounded  man,  who  continued  gazing  at  her  with 
great  tenderness ;  and  bending  towards  him,  she  said  in 
a  gentle  tone: 

"Will  you  offer  that  man  your  hand?" 

Philippe  smiled.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "I  forgive  him  and 
would  like  him  to  forgive  me  also.  I  want  to  live  with 
you  in  Heaven.  Tell  me,  will  you  not  pray  to  your  God 
to  admit  me  to  your  Paradise?" 

Blanche,  very  much  affected,  took  the  dying  man's 
hand,  which  she  felt  trembling  in  hers. 

"Give  me  yours,"  she  said  to  M.  de  Cazalis. 

"  No,  never,  never !  "  shouted  the  cholera  patient  amidst 
a  convulsion.  "I  don't  want  to  live  with  you  in  your 
Heaven.  I  prefer  all  the  flames  of  Hell.  Go.  Never, 
never! " 

He  had  clasped  his  hands  together,  and  was  wildly 
distorting  his  arms.  As  he  bellowed:  "Never,  never!  "  he 
was  seized  with  a  spasm  and  expired.  His  body 
remained  in  its  frightful  position. 

Blanche  had  turned  away  her  head  in  horror.  When 
she  looked  down  on  Philippe  again,  she  saw  that  he, 
also,  was  dying.  He  gently  pressed  her  hand.  His  eyes 
had  become  clear,  his  lips  wore  a  faint  smile.  He 
imagined  he  had  been  dead  a  long  time  and  thought  no 
more  of  his  brother  who  was  there,  or  of  his  son,  whom 
he  had  been  inquiring  for. 

"Tell  me,"  he  murmured,  without  making  the  least 
struggle  against  death,  "you  will  take  me  with  you, 
won't  you?  " 

And  he  died. 

At  that  very  moment  Fine  and  Joseph  entered  the 
room.  Marius  closed  his  brother's  eyes.  Fine,  in  despair, 
went  and  knelt  down.  The  poor  little  child,  standing 
alone  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  was  unable  to  understand, 
and  quietly  sobbed. 

Since  Joseph  had  entered  the  room,  Blanche  had  been 
gazing  at  him  in  bewilderment.  All  at  once  she  saw 


382  THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

he  was  in  danger.  She  kissed  Philippe's  hand  which 
she  had  retained  in  hers,  and  then  abruptly  caught 
the  child  up  in  her  arms  and  ran  off  with  him.  M.  de 
Martelly  had  to  lead  Marius  and  Fine  away,  but  as  Marius 
was  about  to  retire,  he  heard  one  of  the  dying  calling 
to  him. 

"  Don't  you  remember  me  ?  "  a  woman  asked.  "  Have  you 
forgotten  the  wretched  Armande?  I  had  vowed  not  to 
see  you  until  I  had  obtained  my  pardon.  I  made  myself 
a  servant  in  this  hospital  and  am  dying.  Will  you  give 
me  your  hand  ?  " 

Marius  grasped  the  poor  creature's  hand,  and  it  was 
only  then  that  he  discovered  where  he  was.  Overcome 
by  grief,  he  had  not  looked  round  about  him  before. 
The  cholera  ward  now  appeared  to  him  in  all  its  horror. 
M.  Martelly  pointed  out  the  corpse  of  Abbe  Chastanier 
and  from  that  moment  he  seemed  to  see  Death  standing 
erect  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  with  his  immense  arms 
extended.  Thrusting  Fine  before  him,  he  went  out  stag- 
gering with  giddiness. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  on  the  staircase  that  they 
perceived  Joseph  had  disappeared.  They  called  him,  in- 
quired for  him,  searched  for  him  in  every  corner.  At 
length  he  was  discovered  at  the  bottom  of  an  inner  court- 
yard. A  Sister  of  Mercy,  of  the  order  of  Saint  Vincent 
de  Paul  was  holding  him  in  her  arms  and  passionately 
kissing  him. 

The  following  day  Marius,  while  returning  from  his 
brother's  funeral,  learnt  that  Sister  Blanche  had  been 
carried  off  by  an  attack  of  cholera  during  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
EPILOGUE. 

TEN  years  have  passed. 

M.  Martelly  has  retired  to  a  villa  he  had  built  on  the 
rocks  of  Endoume,  and  resides  there  with  his  sister.  The 
only  thing  that  makes  him  feel  sad  is  to  see  that  Liberty 


EPILOGUE.  383 

is  a  plant  that  does  not  thrive  in  France ;  he  feels  sure 
he  will  die  before  the  advent  of  Democracy. 

Marius  has  succeeded  him  at  the  house  of  business,  in 
the  Rue  de  la  Darse.  Thanks  to  the  fortune  Joseph  came 
into  at  the  death  of  his  mother  and  M.  de  Cazalis,  he 
has  been  able  to  extend  his  operations  considerably,  and 
the  ship-owners  Cayol,  are  now  one  of  the  principal  firms 
in  Marseilles. 

The  family  has  grown  older  amidst  the  love  and 
happiness  it  had  waited  for  so  long.  Fine  spreads  her 
gay  and  tender  serenity  around  her,  and  her  brother  Cadet 
is  one  of  the  most  active  partners  in  the  house. 

Joseph  is-  now  a  tall  youth  of  nineteen,  possessing  the 
delicate  beauty  of  Blanche  with  Philippe's  passionate  energy. 
He  has  just  completed  his  studies,  and  expects  to  work 
with  his  uncle  who  has  had  the  care  of  his  fortune. 

Sometimes  when  the  family  is  assembled  of  an  evening 
they  talk  over  the  past,  and  those  dear  phantoms,  Blanche 
and  Philippe,  are  brought  back  to  life;  but  the  tears  that 
are  then  shed  have  no  bitterness  about  them.  Peace  has 
come,  and  recollections  savour  of  the  sweetness  of  a  sad 
and  far-off  song. 

Joseph  goes  every  year  to  Lambesc  to  open  the  shoot- 
ing season  with  M.  de  Girousse.  The  Count  is  very  old, 
but  he  still  possesses  the  lively  and  original  mind  of  his 
youth.  Besides,  time  does  not  hang  heavily  on  his  hands, 
for  he  has  started  a  large  factory. 

"  Ah !  "  he  often  says  to  the  young  man,  "  if  you  only 
heard  what  the  nobility  of  the  department  say  about  me ! 
I  am  a  Jacobite,  I  have  made  a  misalliance  by  espousing 
industry.  I  really  regret  not  having  been  born  a  workman, 
for  if  I  had  been,  I  should  not  have  passed  fifty  years 
of  my  life,  dragging  out  a  weary  and  useless  existence  in 
this  corner  of  France." 

But  Joseph's  great  friend  is  the  worthy  Sauvaire.  The 
former  master-stevedore,  a  prey  to  rheumatism,  has 
nevertheless  preserved  his  triumphant  manner.  On  sunny 
days  he  still  displays  his  vanity  on  the  Cannebiere,  and 
honestly  believes  that  all  the  girls  he  meets  suddenly  fall 
in  love  with  him. 


384  THE  MYSTERIES   OF   MARSEILLES. 

Joseph  seems  to  him  too  serious. 

"  Look  here,"  he  says  to  him,  leaning  on  his  arm, 
"  one  must  amuse  oneself  in  this  world.  In  my  time  we 
used  to  laugh  from  morn  till  eve.  Ah!  by  Jove!  what  fun  I 
had!  All  the  pretty  women  in  the  city  were  under  my 
protection.  You  ask  your  uncle.  Remind  him  of  Clairon. 
What  a  lot  of  money  that  girl  cost  me !  " 

And  then  in  a  lower  tone,  he  adds  the  following  phrase 
which  he  delights  in  repeating: 

"It  was  the  priests  who  took  her  from  me." 


THE   END. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


J 


3  1158  003393153 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     001  113  473     1 


